


Alstromeria, Delphinium, Wisteria

by daphnerunning, Galiko



Series: Fantasy AU [1]
Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Character Death, Dubious Consent, Foursome, M/M, Polyamory, Prostitution, Soul Bond, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 05:57:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 59
Words: 383,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9706154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphnerunning/pseuds/daphnerunning, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galiko/pseuds/Galiko
Summary: "And at springtide, when the apple-blossoms brush the burnished bosom of thedove,Two young lovers lying in an orchard would have read the story of our love;Would have read the legend of my passion, known the bitter secret of my heart,Kissed as we have kissed, but never parted as we two are fated now to part.For the crimson flower of our life is eaten by the cankerworm of truth,And no hand can gather up the fallen withered petals of the rose of youth." --Oscar WildeThe Big Ol' Izuleo Fantasy AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Ah how shameless — the way these mortals blame the gods. From us alone they say come all their miseries, yes, but they themselves with their own reckless ways compound their pains beyond their proper share!"
> 
> \--Homer, "The Odyssey"

Life in the country is nothing like palace life proper, and Izumi, age eleven, hates it, more than a little.

It’s hotter near the cluster of cities, first of all, which makes him miserable every day of summer, regretting his desire to go and hone his talents. Dedicating his spare time to finding every single waterhole takes up most of his spare time, even when winter starts to come around, and he’s more content with the changing of seasons. 

He’s _much_ more content when his mother delivers a birthday present, and seeking out the one friend he’s made here to show it off is a necessity.

“Psst. Milord. _Milord._ ” 

It’s early and cold, and scaling the frigid, vine-covered trellis outside of Leo’s window had seemed like a great idea at the time. Izumi’s regretting it a bit now, his fingers cold even within his gloves. “Are you awake?” Hauling himself unceremoniously into the bedroom window of his prince is improper, and he’d be scolded to no end if anyone found out. Luckily, he’s careful and sneaky, and no one would _ever_ think the shy, doe-eyed squire from some country province no one has heard of would ever be so presumptuous. Izumi knows how to use that, even after only a year.

Leo starts, moving quickly to blow out his lantern, quill halfway to being tucked safely into its case before he realizes that the word isn’t coming from his door, but his _window_ , and that it isn’t his nurse, but _Izumi_. Green eyes (the symbol, with his red hair, of his royal lineage) widen, and he curses under his breath, fumbling to light the lantern again. “Ahh, you’re here! Why are you at the window? It’s cold, let me stoke the fire higher.”

“No, no, don’t bother.” Izumi hauls himself onto the windowsill proper, his eyes bright. For all the cold, _he’s_ dressed rather lightly save for the fluffy, handwoven scarf tucked into his coat, his long, silver hair tied back from his face. “You should get dressed and come out with me, Milord. I have something to show you.” 

Leo’s moving before Izumi finishes talking, grabbing a cloak from the floor where it’s stuffed to block the servants from seeing the light from his lantern. Once he yanks the cloak on and steps closer to the window, he sees the ink smudges on his fingers, now on the lapels of his fine deerskin cloak, and grimaces. Ah, well, he can always “lose” this one, too. “I’m dressed enough. Let’s go before they come check on me.”

Izumi beams with success, and he slides right down out of the window, his feet catching comfortable footholds in the trellis. “Be careful climbing down in that, you might trip,” he warns, hopping down the last meter to land in the crunchy snow. “Do you need me to catch you, Milord?” 

Leo skips the footholds entirely, dropping down to hang from his window by one hand, then dropping the long distance to the ground, rolling on one shoulder and coming up with a jump, dusting himself off with a grin. “Not my first time. Where are we going?”

It’s always a relief when Leo isn’t a delicate, prissy noble like the rest of them. If anything, _he_ usually feels like the prissy one around Leo. “The stables.” Izumi hesitates, then gives into the urge to boldly grab Leo’s hand to pull him along. “My mother sent me a birthday present.” 

“Your Mama?” Leo asks enthusiastically. He’s pestered Izumi for stories about the lovely, mysterious woman that had visited once before, who’d always seemed so kind she wasn’t like a real mother at all. “Is she in town?”

“No, she couldn’t come.” He’s _not_ going to tear up about his mother not being around, he’s not, not when he’s trying to be very cool about stealing a prince away from his bedchambers. “That’s why she sent me such an amazing present.” 

The cutting wind is at least blocked when they step into the stables, and Izumi sighs in relief at that. He shakes himself off like a recently bathed dog, as if that’ll rid him of the frosty chill of winter, and he pulls Leo further along down the stable aisle. “ _Look._ ” Izumi stops short in front of one of the stall doors, and an enormous dappled grey gelding sticks his head over the door, obviously looking for a treat. “He’s mine. Even the knights serving your father—er, His Majesty are jealous, and for good reason, isn’t he beautiful?” 

Leo’s eyes go wide. Silently, he fumbles in his breeches pocket, pulling out a small apple and handing it over, palm up and open. “He’s magnificent. Ah, don’t let Captain Goron see him, he’ll try to get Father to let him steal him. What’s your name, handsome?”

“I haven’t named him yet,” Izumi admits, watching the horse immediately pluck the apple up and out of Leo’s hand. “I won’t let anyone steal him, he’s mine. I’m already a better rider than Captain Dumbass, anyway. I bet he’d get bucked off.” 

“He’s so big, can you really get your legs around him? Ahh…” Leo steps forward, reaching a hand out, whickering softly in his throat until the big head comes down, letting Leo pet his foreheard. “I speak horse.”

“Of course, Milord,” Izumi agrees without batting an eye. “D’you…do you want to take him out with me now?” A poor decision, undoubtedly, but who _else_ would he take out in the snow on his new horse? “I’ll make sure no one finds us, there are a lot of trails that no one is _ever_ on, especially at this time.” 

Leo’s eyes light up. “Really? Can we? He’s _beautiful_ , I’d love to ride him, can I really? You don’t mind?”

“He likes you, so it’s fine.” Izumi is already pulling the bridle off a hook, and unlatching the stall door to put it on his horse. He only has to stretch up onto his tiptoes a _little._ “I’m riding in front, though. You can just hold onto me.” 

Leo pulls the hood of his cloak up, covering his telltale hair before they leave the stables. “Do you have a saddle that’ll fit him? If not, I can go get mine for Bull, he’s almost as big.”

“We don’t need it.” Izumi leads the horse out into the stable aisleway, grabs a handful of his mane, and hauls himself up onto his back with only a little huff of effort. “Where I grew up, we used to ride like this all the time…and he’s so fat, it’s comfortable,” he says with a laugh, leaning down to extend his hand to Leo. “Grab onto me and jump, I’ll pull you up the rest of the way, Milord.” 

“Oh, yeah, I’ve ridden like this loads of times,” Leo lies, wanting to look cool in front of this mysterious shy country noble. Even with the prince attending classes, Izumi is the one everyone whispers about, the one everyone hints is a bastard page, the one they say came from the clouds to spy. He can do things—he’s brilliant in all his classes, can ride and shoot and wield a practice blade—like a noble, but looks confused at some of the courtly graces second nature to those pages that grew up in the Capitol. 

Leo grabs Izumi’s hand, and leaps up, trying to scrabble without hurting the horse, easing himself into place with (hopefully) minimal embarrassment. It feels entirely insecure without a saddle, and his instincts scream that this is wrong—he’s been tossed onto horseback since he was old enough to walk, but never without a saddle. It feels slippery, and oddly intimate with the horse’s muscles rippling directly beneath his thighs. But Izumi is solid in front of him, and Leo takes his opportunity, snaking his arms around Izumi’s waist, tugging him close. “Take me somewhere I’ve never been,” he urges, almost unable to believe they haven’t been caught yet.

The thrill of Leo pressed up behind him, holding tight around his waist, warm and clingy and breathing against his neck, makes goosebumps prickle down Izumi’s arms that have nothing to do with the cold. “As…as my lord wishes.” He pulls his scarf tighter around his neck, his face flushed pink as he picks up his horse’s reins and urges him forward. 

He halts just outside of the stable, warily glancing about to make _sure_ there’s no one to catch sight of them. _All clear_ , and he breathes a sigh of relief before nudging the horse forward again, letting him pick his way carefully through the slushy, well-traversed snow. “You never get to go anywhere without your guards, right? That sounds really annoying.” 

“I mean, I’m not _supposed_ to,” Leo admits, tightening his arms around Izumi’s waist, relaxing into the familiar rhythm of horseback. “I’m kinda famous for making them find me, though. But I can’t help it! Sometimes you see stuff that you just _have_ to dive into headfirst, right? Right?”

“Waterholes,” Izumi mutters, nodding in agreement. “There’s a lot of them around here, did you know? The ones back home are always hot, it’s weird, they’ll make you pass out with all the steam if you’re not careful—but the ones here, they’re always nice and cold, and they don’t seem to ice over in the winter too much…” He pulls his horse’s head to the side, stopping him from grabbing a mouthful of iced over grass as they move along to the forest trails of his choice. It’s not the typical hunter’s path—that would be too predictable. He’s _sure_ Leo has seen those. “If your guards come looking for you now, you can tell them I kidnapped you. I’d rather die an outlaw.” 

Leo’s mouth parts, breath coming out in little white puffs. “You’re so cool,” he mutters, looking around. “Ahh, I’ve never been on this path! And it’s right by the palace, that’s wonderful! Where does it go?”

“Aaall the way to a waterhole I found a few months ago.” Confidence bolstered by the praise, Izumi nudges his horse into a trot, which is fortunately one of the smoother ones he’s ever felt. “It’s where a lot of noble girls go and strip down and swim in the summer,” he says with a grin. “In the winter, though, it’s always empty, so it’s like the perfect secret spot. I bet no one will _ever_ be able to find us.” 

Leo gives Izumi’s shoulder a bite through his clothes. “I heard you got in trouble for looking at all the girls bathing a bunch of times. What’s so good about naked girls?”

“Ow! Did you just bite me?” Izumi twists his head around to glower at him. “What’s _not_ good about naked girls? They’re pretty. I didn’t get in trouble for looking, I got in trouble because they invited me to _join them_ , which is my fault, for some reason. It wasn’t fair.” 

“I heard you got in trouble for grabbing the schoolmaster’s daughter under her skirt,” Leo presses, unrepentant for the bite. “Why would grownup ladies want you to wash with them?”

“Because they think I’m cute.” Izumi shrugs. “She yelled at me, but she got upset and threw a book at me later when I didn’t grab her again, you know.” 

Leo shakes his head. The concept is baffling to him, but he’s never been fascinated with girls the way everyone else he knows is, so he’s probably the weird one…especially for being jealous that Izumi’s never tried to grab _him_ under his clothes.

But those girls don’t get to curl up against Izumi’s back late at night, riding through winding secret trails behind the palace in search of a mysterious hidden waterhole deep in the mountains. “Listen,” he whispers, mouth bare centimeters from Izumi’s ear. “Everything rustling…it sounds like the woods are crawling with monsters, doesn’t it? Maybe unicorns, maybe griffons, maybe manticores…”

Izumi shivers down to his toes, and it has far more to do with Leo’s mouth against his ear than the words coming out of it. His toes curl in his boots, and he leans his head back to stare at Leo out of the corner of his eye. “Do you really believe in stuff like that? Have you ever _seen_ a unicorn? Ah, careful, Milord, keep your head down, the trees get lower here.”

Leo ducks his head to avoid the branch, reaching down to rub over the horse’s flank. “I’d never seen someone like you before I finally did,” he says softly, unable to think of anything else to explain how he’s feeling. “That doesn’t mean you didn’t exist in my mind.”

“W…what’s that supposed to mean?” Izumi’s cheeks flush hot even in the cold. “How could I exist in your mind if you didn’t know me?” It doesn’t make sense to him, especially because he _knows_ no one else in the whole capitol has hair like him and eyes to match. _Don’t draw attention to yourself_ —easier said than done, always, and Izumi has failed at that since he arrived. Meeting people like Leo hasn’t made that any easier. 

“Mm, I think I dreamed about you, when I was a child.” Leo’s cheeks flush, and he leans forward, pressing one cheek against the back of Izumi’s shoulder. “Or someone like you. I took a fever, when I was young, and all Father’s wizards thought I was going to die. Someone beautiful with hair like a stormcloud laid a cool hand on my head, and then I woke up. No one remembered seeing them. And when you came to school…I thought you must have been from another world.”

“Milord…” What does he even say to that? What _can_ he even say without coming off as weird, or troubled by that story, or…personally invested? Izumi struggles with the words for a moment before giving up, because the forest opens up to a wide, open plain of snow. “If you hold on tightly, we can go fast.” That’s better than talking about awkward things like himself, his hair, or strange wizards. 

Leo’s hands clasp in front of Izumi’s waist, clinging tightly. “I’ll trust you to show me a new world, then,” he hums, unwilling to close his eyes even in the whipping wind, wanting to see every moment of the ethereal snow plane, silent but for the crunching of the horse’s hooves and Izumi’s rapid breath.

That’s a lot more trust than Izumi is used to, and he swallows, hoping Leo can’t feel the nerves that make him grip the reins tighter as he urges his horse forward. 

If it were just him, he’d be gone at a full gallop by now, but Leo is a bad liar, and it’s obvious he’s not exactly used to riding large horses completely bareback. A brisk lope is good enough instead, especially when his horse _is_ so large, and he covers ground at a far quicker pace than Izumi is accustomed to. The wind is sharp and cold, but Leo is so solid and warm against his back that it doesn’t bother him, especially when he hunches forward over his horses neck to break the stream of it. 

He’s breathing hard when they finally pull up near the partially frozen pond, white puffs of breath leaving both himself and his horse. The gelding tosses his head, snorting, overeager about going _fast_ again, and Izumi sighs in exasperation, trying to quiet him with steadier hands and a firm leg. “Freezing to death yet, Milord?” he breathlessly teases. “I think you might be a bit under dressed after all.” 

Leo shivers, his hands the coldest part of him, but he grins, teeth not yet chattering. “Father’s wizard spelled the cloak,” he assures Izumi. “It’s warmer than being tucked into a whole pile of furs. Also, I’ve got a burning heart, so that keeps me warm from the inside, ha! Ah…what do we do, now that we’re here? It’s too cold to swim.”

“Mm…if it were just me, I’d swim,” Izumi says without batting an eye. He twists, curiosity getting the better of him, and he sticks a hand into Leo’s cloak, his eyes going wide. “You’re not kidding. That’s so—“ 

In the woods surrounding the pond, something hisses and rattles. It’s probably just the wind, or some wild animal, lurking and threatened by their presence in the night, but it’s enough to make his already riled horse start, bolting sideways. For such a large animal, he certainly gets his feet out from underneath him quickly enough, skittering on the slick, snowy ground, and Izumi curses, nearly toppling off and only saved by a handful of mane twisted between his gloved fingers. 

But Leo comes off, and that makes Izumi give up his own desire to look cool and stay put. His horse, still spooking and jittery, is less important than his prince on the ground in the snow, and he leaps off, releasing his horse and letting him sort out his own nerves. “Leo—damn it, Milord, are you all right?”

The shock is worse than the pain. No, the cold is worse, and Leo shivers, trying to pull his cloak over him when the world is tilted sideways, a white slap of pain to his right side as he’s lying suddenly on the ground. It had been so fast, just a lurch, a flash of the sky, and now the snow. He’s lying on some kind of broken ice—he must be, with how sharp the pain in his arm is, and he tries to move, only to cry out as pain shoots through him, making him gasp for breath, cold sweat breaking out on his face, his whole nervous system in shock. 

He sucks in a breath, feeling his stomach churn at the boiling pain in his arm, and he grits his teeth. _You’re a prince of a great nation_ , he tells himself, blinking tears out of his eyes. _Don’t cry like a baby!_

“I’m fine,” he says shakily, because that’s what you say when you fall if you’re a prince, who doesn’t cry like a baby. He sits up carefully, then looks down at his arm, and his heart sinks. “Oh. That’s…my sword arm.”

It’s bent at a shocking angle, almost fascinating in its _wrongness_ , snapped just above the elbow and dangling limply below that. His stomach turns again, and he pokes it with his left hand, feeling a sick numbness shoot through him.

I’m dead, is the first thought that comes to Izumi’s mind. I’m dead, because this is my fault, this was my idea, and now Leo is hurt. 

_Izumi has half the mind to climb back on his horse and steer the accursed animal straight into the pond. He drops down next to Leo in the snow, biting his lip as he runs through his options, all of which he’s pretty sure he’s going to die for, no matter which he chooses._

At least there’s one he’ll die for that doesn’t end with the prince being permanently useless at wielding a sword, and Izumi swallows audibly. “I…I can fix it,” he quietly says, not quite able to meet Leo’s eyes when he says it. “If you trust me, I’ll do it.” 

“Izumi, look,” Leo whispers, his mind dislocated, drifting through space, staring down at the ruin of his arm, not really hearing anything Izumi’s saying. “Look, it’s my arm, can you believe it?” 

His eyes go out of focus for a moment, then back in, blurring slightly. “Ah…I think…Father’s wizard might be able to speed it up, if you can get me back home.” 

Well, I’m dead, anyway, who cares?

_Izumi exhales a huff of breath and pushes Leo down into the snowbank with a trembling hand. He rips his own scarf off, throwing it over Leo’s face. “Don’t look,” he orders, ripping off his glove, and he reaches down, grabbing Leo’s broken arm and pulling it straight back to the correct angle before a protest can escape Leo’s lips._

That should hurt—or it would, if Izumi’s grasp didn’t numb the entire arm the second he touches it. The sudden, abrupt use of magic takes Izumi’s breath away, especially when he’s using it on someone _else_ , for such a large and obvious wound. It’s one thing to fix his own scrapes and bruises, but the last time he’d done something like this wasn’t even on a human, but a struggling, limping kitten that a horse had stepped on, and even that had made him lightheaded once the kitten had squirmed out of his arms, robust and taking off at top speed. 

The flow and focus of power is a strange one, and Izumi can feel the bones and blood vessels shifting and popping back into place underneath his fingertips, mending swiftly. When he finally draws his hand away, there isn’t even a single bruise in sight, and he feels himself shaking, trembling all the way down to his toes. “There,” he whispers, vibrating where he sits, ready to bolt, or perhaps better, throw himself into the water and drown from the cold. “Milord, I…I’m begging you, please, don’t tell anyone.” 

The shock of breaking his arm is _nothing_ compared to this. 

Leo feels like he’s at the center of a storm raging under his own skin, stealing his senses and leaving him shaken. The riot finally fades from his mind, leaving it surprisingly clear, looking down at his arm, whole and unmarred, still tingling. Slowly, he looks up at Izumi, trembling like a leaf, looking terrified and haunted all at once. “You…” he whispers, unable to believe what he’s seen. “Izumi…what are you?”

“ _Please_ don’t tell anyone.” Izumi can hear his own pulse thundering in his ears. He’s lightheaded from two different directions at once, and it’s the worst feeling he’s sure he’s _ever_ felt. His lower lip trembles, tears welling up in his eyes. “I…I don’t want to be sent away, I _don’t_ , I want to be a knight, not a wizard or…or…” His breath hiccups, and he sniffs, hurriedly lifting a hand to wipe at his face, desperate still not to make a fool out of himself in front of Leo by crying. “Please, Milord, I’d rather you kill me t-than tell anyone, so just…just warn me now if you’re going to tell, so I can run away.” 

Leo doesn’t think. If he were thinking, he’d remember that there’s a reason his father has banned untrained wizards, that all wizards have a few things in common (little of it good), that some of the greatest atrocities of all time have been committed by those who hid such powers.

But he isn’t.

He’s leaning forward, grabbing Izumi by the front of his shirt and hauling him close for a firm, chaste kiss on his lips to stop their wobbling, pulling back and bringing his hands up to cup Izumi’s face. “I’ll be that secret’s keeper,” he swears, holding his eyes. “It’ll _never_ pass my lips. That’s my word as your prince. And…and as your friend.”

Izumi blinks back at him, eyes wide and wet before he slowly nods, sniffling as he reaches up to grab at one of Leo’s hands. “Okay,” he whispers, exhaling a long, shaky breath. “Okay. I…I’m glad.” He trembles again, far more out of weakness now than deep, sure terror that he’s going to be killed or exiled. “I’m…I’m sorry you got hurt. It’s fine now, right? It doesn’t ache? I don’t…I don’t do things like this often, I…” 

Leo gives what he hopes is an encouraging smile, waving his arm around to test it, clenching and unclenching his fist. “No pain, no weakness, no problem! Wahaha, Izumi is _incredible_ , you’ve got to promise to never leave my side, you’re better than all of Father’s wizards put together!”

“That’s because they all suck,” Izumi sniffs, wiping at his nose with his sleeve. “And I’m not a wizard. I…I don’t know what I am, but I’ve never read anything like it in books, you know? And I’ve looked. A lot.” 

Slowly, painstakingly, he pulls himself to his feet, tired of shivering in the snow, and he brushes himself off, looking around for his horse. The stupid animal has decided that trying to paw through the snow and eat at wilted grass is a good idea, and so Izumi sighs, leaving him be. “My mother told me not to ever let anyone know,” he mumbles, tugging his gloves back on. “She said…she said they’d send me away, for sure.” 

“They would,” Leo says softly. Then he unclasps his cloak, pulling Izumi into his lap, letting the cloak billow over both of them. “Here, get warm. Who in the hells was your father? A god?” It’s a little bit flippant, but Leo isn’t joking. Most of his father’s scholars would tell him such a thing was impossible. His favorite of them, however, would wink, and slide over a few relevant scriptures.

As much as he normally favors the cold, Izumi currently feels sapped enough of energy that Leo’s cloak is a welcome refuge that he can’t refuse. Izumi huddles close, exhaling a wet, hiccuping breath. “I don’t know,” he admits quietly, staring down at his trembling hands. “My mother doesn’t either. She…she was barren, before whoever he was came and raped her. She never told me that, but one of her sisters did. They dislike me, but I believe it. They don’t have any reason to lie about it.” 

Leo scowls at the idea of someone disliking Izumi, and tucks his cloak around them both more tightly. “They should be grateful to you, aren’t you the only heir? Father mentioned your mother’s estate—he considered marrying her to a cousin, you know, just to secure the mountains. But she wouldn’t, I heard, because she wanted to give it all to you.”

“I’m still a bastard, so they can dislike me all they want,” Izumi mutters, shrugging a little as he buries his face into Leo’s neck. He’s like a small, concentrated fireplace, cloak or no cloak, and that more than anything makes the tremors start to leave him. “It’s different in the countryside. The nobles out there, they aren’t like the ones here. We do all of our own work, you know? Not a slight, Milord, but—for comparison, my mother maybe had two, three servants in the whole of our house. You have seven all to yourself, don’t you?” He’s counted, for reasons (to learn their schedules, and how to avoid them). “So what she has to offer me is a lot less, and therefore, I’m a lot less important as an heir unless I’m here and making myself a lot more skilled. If I’m not skilled, _anyone_ could take over her estate. If I don’t make a name for her, anyone else could put a name on the mountains and take hers away.” Izumi sniffs again. “Me having this creepy power isn’t helping any of that. The only thing it’s ever been good for is not having to be afraid during practice.” 

A smile flickers over Leo’s mouth. “When you first came, I heard Master Sasan say you had no fear. He said you could be the deadliest warrior in the world, but you’ll probably die first. But if you can always heal yourself…ah, you haven’t sworn to anyone else, have you? I…want you to swear to me, before one of my stupid duke uncles snatches you up.”

It’s a dreadfully selfish request. It isn’t as if Izumi can refuse a prince, after all, but the squire to a duke would become an independent, fully-blooded knight upon adulthood. A squire to a prince, however, would remain a squire until that prince became a king, unable to marry, unable to hold land or titles. If Leo’s father lives a long time, Izumi would be signing away most of his life in servitude with little reward beyond prestige.

Of course, if Leo’s father dies young, Izumi would become the Captain of his Kingsguard, automatically elevated to the highest knightship in the land. 

Izumi frowns, and he shifts on Leo’s lap, twisting to look at him. “I’m not swearing to one of your stupid uncles,” he bluntly says. “I don’t like them and they can’t make me.” 

“Uncle Rodan wants you.” Leo looks down now, embarrassed that he said anything, avoiding Izumi’s eyes. “He’s a great knight. And he’s got three pretty daughters, if you squire for him you could become a Count. A Duke, if he has no sons by the time you marry his daughter.”

“Yeah, but—“ Izumi’s lips purse as he tries to catch himself and not sound like a country hick. It’s too late, probably. “I don’t like him, and I don’t care about getting married. His daughters aren’t that pretty.” He heaves a sigh, tilting his head back. “Can I swear _to_ swear to you later? I don’t want to yet. I mean, I want to, Milord, but…” His expression shifts wry. “I kinda like pissing off your uncles and everyone else by _not_ swearing to them and still being the best. Does that make sense?” 

Leo hesitates. His hand fists in his cloak, trying to keep his voice steady. “You’re throwing away a chance to make a name for your mother, though. Didn’t you come here to keep your estates safe? You’re a Lord in your own right, but you could be anything. You could make your mother a Countess, bring her here to wear lovely dresses and have a hundred servants.”

“I don’t need to swear to anyone to make a name for her.” Izumi is very certain of that. He shrugs, glancing down at his lap again. “Milord…with all due respect, I know how good I am. I could be a squire the rest of my life and still bring honor to my mother’s name, if I fought on the right sides of things—I don’t _need_ to be a Duke or anything to swing a sword correctly. Buuut…I’ll swear to you, when you’re king. If I still like you.” 

“Wahaha! You’re so cocky!” Leo lets the hood fall off his head, shaking out his hair, mussed and wild. “I love that. I love you, Izumi. And you _are_ good enough. So get off my lap and let’s go home, before they send the dogs and wizards after us. And when my father dies, you’ll be Captain of my Kingsguard…if I still like you.”

“Don’t just say you love people like that,” Izumi exasperatedly says, his cheeks flushing pink, and he grabs Leo’s arm as he climbs to his feet, hauling him after him. “It’s no good! Obviously you’ll still like _me_ , it’s me liking _you_ that you’ll need to worry about, Milord.” 

His horse meanders closer, knocking his head against Izumi’s back, and Izumi scowls, grabbing his reins. “ _Don’t_ fall off this time,” he warns Leo, scaling his horse like he’s a snake slithering easily up a tree, and reaches out his hand to pull Leo up after him. “I’m not fixing anything again, I’m tired.” 

Leo hauls himself up, settling in behind Izumi once again, hooking his chin over Izumi’s shoulder, unafraid now to press up close. “You’ll fix me if I fall again,” he says, entirely assured. “But what if someone breaks my heart? Will you fix me then?”

“Yeah, but first, I’ll have to kill whoever did it.” Oops. That was probably a little creepy. Oh well. Izumi shrugs, urging his horse forward. “Someone has to do it, Milord.” 

“I, uh, don’t think anyone has to do that.”

“Mmhm. I do. No one’s allowed to break your heart.” 

“…You’re a very secretly cute person. No wonder girls want you to flip their skirts.”

Izumi’s face flushes, and he scowls, staring straight ahead as he digs his heels into his horse’s sides. “Please hold tight, Milord,” he huffs. “I’m taking you home and never taking you out again!”

“Promises, promises! Go the whole way and kidnap me and go on the run, we’ll have adventures!”

Izumi snorts, but he ducks forward, hiding a smile. “As soon as you’re king—consider _that_ a promise.” 


	2. Chapter 2

Leo is avoiding him.

Izumi has had enough on his plate lately, but at least he’s been sure of _why_. Two scandals, summed up in short by his blunt refusal of an offer from Leo’s uncle, to swear to him and be granted a real title, a blue-blooded wife, and a great deal of power (he had been offered it at a dinner ceremony, even, and the applause had started before he’d even said no, causing a scene that no one has yet forgiven), _then_ his opportunistic flirting with the queen herself (she had _liked it_ , honestly, and encouraged it, how was he supposed to stop or know that her brother was lurking about and watching and reporting to the king himself?). Izumi is well aware that he causes a number of his own problems—like those scandals—but with Leo suddenly avoiding him…well, he’s at a loss. 

A stressful, niggling fear that the king has finally turned Leo against him lingers at the back of his mind. In light of all of these scandals, Izumi wouldn’t even be surprised. His reputation has grown progressively worse through the years—better on the battlefield, which is all that he truly cares about—and Leo’s favor helps less and less in matters with the king. It’s why Izumi can’t wait to clean himself up for the day and lurk outside of the stables until he sees Leo stalk inside and head straight to his own horse’s stall. 

_Casual. Have to be casual!_ Izumi waits a minute or two before slinking inside, his booted feet quiet on the dirt floor. “Evening, Milord,” he greets, and his heart thumps hard in his chest, uncharacteristic panic already jumping into his throat. If for some reason Leo _has_ turned against him, then he’s…well, he might as well die. That’s what it feels like, at any rate. 

Leo freezes in his tracks.

At least, his heart freezes. Nearly two decades of court training keep negative emotions from appearing on his face, so he merely schools his expression to neutral, going about the motions of brushing out his horse. “Hello,” he says flatly, not making eye contact. He should be using Izumi’s form of address, of course, but _page_ sounds insulting to a man within a year of reaching his majority—which is his own fault, of course, because any _reasonable_ man would have sworn to a nobleman by now. 

_But Izumi isn’t a reasonable man_ , he reminds himself, taking care not to brush too hard. It isn’t his gelding’s fault, after all.

Ah. Okay, still angry—but about…what, exactly? Izumi tries not to wince as he leans against the frame of the stall door, arms folded. He’s never had to figure this sort of thing out with Leo before, which makes it at least a million times more difficult. “Going out for an evening ride?” he asks. “Would you like company?” 

“Don’t worry. I’ll be gone soon. Then you can have the stables to yourself. That’s what you like, isn’t it?”

Only Izumi makes Leo run his mouth like that, and Leo bites his tongue too late, face hot and angry. 

“…Huh?” Izumi’s head cocks, and he blinks, openly and honestly confused. “I mean…I like being alone, Milord, but that only applies to anyone that isn’t you, obviously,” he dismisses with a laugh. “Did I snap at you while I was saddling Vale?I assure you, that wasn’t any fault of your own, I was probably just cross that he’s getting so fat while I’ve been busy scrubbing toilets.”

Leather boots scrape on the floor, and Leo’s face darkens when he sees a few stableboys heading down from their loft to beg food for supper. “Be quicker about showing me your backs,” he snaps, and watches them jump at his tone, sending them scurrying towards the kitchen back door. He lowers his voice, muttering unintelligibly to Tempo under his breath about boys with dangerous appetites and low standards.

Izumi’s eyebrows raise, and he drums his fingers against his arms. “Got something against them now, Milord?” he wryly asks, straightening to grab Tempo’s saddle blanket, shaking it clean. “It’s not often you act like a brat, but I suppose it can be endearing every now and then.” 

Leo slams the brush back into its holster, wheeling on Izumi with blazing eyes. “I saw you,” he hisses, and gives Izumi’s chest a shove. “With—with _whatever_ his name is, the little black-haired one that’s always following you around like, ‘oh, _yes,_ Milord Izumi, what can I _do_ for you, Milord Izumi,’ begging to lick your boots and your whatever else!”

Leo’s shove barely sways him, which is helpful when all Izumi can do is blink down at his prince, his head tilting slowly in the other direction this time. “…And this…bothers you,” he slowly deduces, throwing the saddle blanket back over the stall. “That’s…unfortunate.” It bothers _him_ that it bothers Leo, on a few different levels, and Izumi tries not to show that on his face—fails, of course, because he’s not the greatest at hiding his displeasure, never has been. In this case, it’s less displeasure, more hurt, but if he fights it down enough, maybe he won’t look so offended. “If it bothers you so much, petition your father to let me chase women again when I’m confined to court, then. He threatened to chop my balls off if he saw me touch another woman within the month, and I need those, thanks.”

Leo wants to smack him again, frustrated nearly to the point of tears—but no, he’s already cried over this bastard once in the last few days, he’s not going to do it again. He grabs his saddle blanket, throwing it over Tempo’s back, then grabbing his saddle next. “This is why you’re disgusting,” he says, trying not to let his voice shake. “You just—you act like you can get away with _anything_ , you act like people are _disposable_ and don’t have any feelings— _not_ today, sir,” he adds in a growl, kneeing Tempo in the gut until he exhales, letting Leo cinch him tightly.

“Forgive me, Milord, but I’m _not_ seeing how one relates to the other,” Izumi bluntly retorts, hands on his hips as he watches Leo critically. “I felt up a stableboy and suddenly, you’re furious with me. You’ve seen me do the same to girls a million times—why is that different? If you think I’m disgusting for touching another man, then—well, I’m not apologizing. This isn’t a new preference.” 

“That’s worse!” Hurt twists in Leo’s gut, followed by the certainty that he’s the problem, he’s the ugly one, he’s the one with too many issues, too much baggage, too many demanding relatives. He shouldn’t keep talking, especially not where anyone could hear them, so he leaps up onto Tempo’s back, nodding at the door behind Izumi. “Open it.”

“No.” Izumi scowls up at him. “Why is that worse? Get off your damned horse or I’m climbing up there with you and we can talk like that.” Literally no one else alive except the king himself would talk to the prince like that, but, well, what is good sense, honestly. 

“Get out of my way and open the door, that’s an order from your prince!” Izumi, of all people, knows how little Leo enjoys giving _orders as your prince_ , but he’s too upset to care right now. 

Izumi’s mouth tightens, and he flips the latch, pulling the door open—right before he grabs hold of the side of Leo’s saddle and hauls himself up behind him in one, fluid leap. “Yes, yes, let’s go on a ride together, Milord, you’re right,” he hums, reaching around Leo and snatching the reins out of his grasp. A swift kick spurs Tempo forward, cantering straight out of the stable. “What a great way to discuss this in private!” 

Leo curses, grabbing onto Tempo’s mane when Izumi has the reins, unable even to throw himself off the horse when Izumi’s arms are around him. Frustrated tears threaten to spill out of his eyes, and he blinks rapidly, cursing his stupid beautiful responsive fast horse as they leave the palace far behind, cantering up a quiet palace road. 

Once they’re ten minutes out of the palace, he relaxes slightly, and the shame starts to steal into his gut. “You can talk now,” he says quietly, staring straight ahead. “I shouldn’t have ordered you around like that. You didn’t break any laws.”

Izumi says nothing at first, and he gradually slows Leo’s horse, taking him down to a walk when he’s certain Leo isn’t going to jump off and head back on his own. “No, but you still think I’m disgusting, Milord,” he eventually, softly says, heaving a sigh. “So that’s…new. I didn’t know it bothered you so.” 

“I didn’t say you were disgusting. I said you don’t care about people’s feelings. Pay attention when I say things, bastard page.” 

“Can you not call me that? It’s unsightly when I’m this old. The exact word you used was ‘disgusting’, but I will give you that you also know I don’t care about people’s feelings. You’re just forgetting that you aren’t people.” 

“Stop it.” Leo rubs at his face, heartsick. “I thought it was an act. You’ve always been so damn unknowable—it’s always been easy for me to believe that you’re _not_ coldhearted, that you’re just bad at showing your true self, I _hate_ seeing you throw people aside as if they’re garbage. I want you to be better than that.”

Izumi exhales a long, frustrated breath as he leans forward, dropping his chin atop one of Leo’s shoulders. “What is this about, exactly?” he wearily asks. “Are you upset that I didn’t swear to your uncle after all? Are you upset that your mother thinks I’m charming? Are you so annoyed at whats-his-face for existing and spoiling my womanizer image? I can’t really change any of them, but, well, I can at least know what I’m supposed to be apologizing about first.” 

“We’ve—we’ve been riding together like this a hundred times, haven’t we?” Leo half-whispers, more annoyed with himself than with Izumi, all for his own cowardice. “I’ve had my arms around you on Vale, or you like this on Tempo. And I didn’t have the faintest idea that you liked to lift shirts as well as skirts.”

“Mmm. A couple of reasons for that, Milord. Most boys in the Capitol are dirty and ugly and not to my taste…and it’s much easier to find cute boys that don’t have a chip on their shoulder about it when you’re on the road.” Izumi shrugs. “My mother always warned me to be careful about it, too. It’s not illegal, but when you’re wanting to be a knight and you look like I do, it’s better that no one knows. Less questions, less teasing. I don’t have time for it.” 

“That’s a shit reason you’ve given me,” Leo says tiredly, letting his head fall back against Izumi’s chest. The ache in his own isn’t going away, but talking about this feels as if he’s poking at that ache, making him hurt more and more, but he can’t stop. “If you cared about ruffling feathers, you wouldn’t tumble every serving girl who looks at you once—or at least you wouldn’t tumble every Duke’s wife. You don’t care if people ask questions or tease.”

A muscle in Izumi’s jaw twitches irritably. “You know, Milord, if you wanted a different reason, then maybe you should come up with it yourself. You don’t get bothered for fucking every woman that moves, let me assure you—though I know you wouldn’t know that, you damned cherry.” 

Usually, the insult feels playful, the way it is when Leo calls him Bastard Page. Just now, it hits him low, and he feels his fingers grow cold with embarrassment, as if it’s something to be ashamed of. “Just because I haven’t degraded myself doesn’t mean I’m a child. I know what the men at court say, I’ve lived here my whole life. And there are _lots_ of better looking boys around, so why the stableboy? Is that the type you really like?”

“Ugh, no. But I was horny, and he was there, and I didn’t have to do a damned thing for him in return, so. _Degraded_ yourself, honestly, you’re sounding like such a prude,” Izumi grumpily mutters. “Why are you so fixated on that damned stableboy? You sound like a jealous maiden.” 

And as soon as he says it, it clicks. Izumi pauses, frozen for a moment, and his eyebrows climb. “You are. You _are_ jealous, aren’t you?” 

This is the _worst_. Leo shifts forward, face hot, trying to put some distance between them when they’re riding the same horse. “N-no! A prince jealous of a stableboy—don’t make me laugh—“

“You are! You’re jealous!” Izumi leans forward, his eyes lighting up—and then he remembers that right, fuck, this is the prince, this is Leo, this isn’t just some other boy he can tease and fuck and be done with. 

_Namely, the whole reason he’s never even tried._

He swallows, leaning back. “You really shouldn’t be,” Izumi tries casually instead. “You’re…mm. You’re special, Milord.” 

“So special you don’t look at me the same way,” Leo says bitterly, flushed with shame at the way he’s acting. This isn’t the way a prince of the realm should act, like some common trollop with less sense than tits. He’s often wondered, staring at his ceiling in the darkness of his lantern, how it would feel to be one of Izumi’s women, how his hands would feel, how his mouth would feel, how it would feel to have him inside. 

And then he’d seen his stableboy—a skinny lad with too-large eyes and short-cropped black hair that he’d rarely looked at twice—looking flushed and elated, with Izumi’s hand between his thighs. It wasn’t the first time he’d wanted to shave his head and become a stableboy—but it was the first time he’d wanted to have a stableboy murdered. That thought had been shameful and embarrassing, and he’d hated it, hated himself, hated Izumi for making it happen. 

Shit. Shit, shit, he’s going to fuck this up. “Well—yes, you’re right, I don’t look at you in the same way.” Izumi grimaces, cursing his tongue for suddenly being entirely useless. “That’s not what I meant,” he quickly adds, hauling Leo’s horse to a stop reflexively to mimic his own backtracking. “Milord—the way I feel about you—it’s—“

Very, very different. 

_Different at its very core, down to the snowy night when Leo had kissed him, chaste and sweet and innocent, and Izumi hadn’t been able to forget it. Distracting himself with a woman every single time Leo as much as smiled at him was the only way out of this hell outside of going completely insane—because Leo is as pretty as a girl, prettier than a girl, but with all the warmth and sturdiness of a boy, smelling all the time of fresh, clean soap and hay and grain, smart as a whip and the only person in the Capitol that understands his sarcasm and can keep up with him in riding and the only person that ever has stood up for him except himself, even once._

And if I try to chase after the prince, even if he wants me, it’s not going to be just a threat that the king delivers.

_Izumi’s fingers clench, and he kicks Tempo forward again. “I would never touch you like that stableboy.”_

There’s something wrong with me.

_Leo realizes it suddenly—Izumi has seen him bathing, seen him changing, and must have seen something he didn’t like. Or maybe it’s something about him—it’s because he’s too commanding, too brash, too self-centered. No, wait, Izumi has always liked those things about him…hasn’t he?_

“I’ve acted like an awful brute,” he says softly, hands settling onto Tempo’s mane. “Throwing a tantrum just because you don’t want me—that’s not how a real friend would act. I…ah, I’ve shamed myself, and a real prince takes responsibility. I won’t be the sort of king that trifles with people’s lives, so I mustn’t be that sort of king, either. I’m sorry, Izumi.”

Izumi sucks in a breath, then lets it out as a sigh. “You’re an idiot, but I don’t want you to apologize,” he mutters, switching Tempo’s reins to one hand to reach up and pull on Leo’s stub of a ponytail, suddenly embarrassed. “ _Obviously_ I want you. That’s not the issue here, Milord.” 

“But I’ve—wait. What?”

“You heard me, you stupid prince. Obviously I want you. On any given day, you make me feel like I need to eat a whole raw potato to calm the fuck down.” Izumi’s expression shifts wry, and he leans back, staring skyward. “But I’d have to kill myself if I went there. No one’s allowed to break your heart, they have to die.” 

Emotions race through Leo’s mind, and he twists around in his saddle, utterly befuddled. “No—you don’t want me,” he insists, not sure why he’s arguing against something he wants. “You don’t care about things like status or what your place is, you tried to sleep with my _mother_ , so why wouldn’t you just grab me?”

“I literally just told you. No one’s allowed to break your heart, they’d have to die, and I’m not ready to die.” Izumi stares at him, exasperated. “Milord, follow along. You were there for that original conversation.” 

Leo frowns, then gives Izumi’s too-hard head a smack. “We’re talking about sex, aren’t we? I’m not _that_ fragile, I won’t let my heart break just because my dear friend grabbed my arse.”

Izumi doesn’t sway with the hit, but he does grab Leo’s hand, squeezing it too tightly. There’s no other way to get it across to Leo if he’s not blunt and honest, and Izumi _does_ hate that, fundamentally, but… “It’s not _just_ about sex,” he abruptly says before he loses his nerve, staring down at Leo. “With anyone else, it’s about sex. You aren’t just ‘anyone else’, Milord.” 

Leo opens his mouth, then shuts it.

But if it’s not just sex—

_Then it’s—_

_Oh._

_Izumi, the oldest page in court, the country bastard who’d tried to lift the queen’s skirts, the brash, cocky one who’d refused to squire for a Duke, the rogue that’s lifted half the skirts in the palace, the man that glitters with secrets in Leo’s vision, is in love with him._

Cold nerves evaporate. Sick frustration disappears. The furrows in his brow smooth, and he sucks in a breath, feeling it catch in his throat as he grabs Izumi’s shirt, splaying his hands onto his chest. “That’s stupid,” he whispers. “You’d never hurt me.” 

“Is that what you think?” Izumi’s voice wavers as he forces a laugh, hating how he suddenly sounds terrified and backed into a corner. Fuck. He’s _fucked_ , Leo is grabbing at him and staring at him with those big, green eyes and if this continues, he’s done for. He pulls Tempo to a stop just off the road, and the horse shifts restlessly, obviously feeling the tension in both of his riders. “Milord—I could ruin you. Because if anything comes of this, I’m not going to stop, I’m not going to leave you alone, and—and _that’s_ stupid.” 

“You’re stupid as well as a bastard if you think you’re allowed to leave me now!” Leo’s voice is suddenly loud, and he swings off Tempo’s back, getting his feet shakily on the ground. Twisting around like that is never going to work, but staring _up_ at Izumi feels weird, and he plants his hands on his hips, scowling. “Didn’t you already swear to be my squire?” he demands. “Didn’t you swear to protect me for the rest of our lives? You’re _banned_ from leaving my service, whether I take off my clothes for you or not!”

Izumi has half the mind to ride off and leave Leo there to try and hide from this _mess_ , and he sighs, staring off into the distance for a moment before he slides off of the horse, landing lightly on the ground. 

“Is that an actual order, Milord?” Izumi stands in front of him, folding his arms, staring down at him through his lashes. “Whether you take off your clothes or not?” 

Leo sucks in a breath. Now that they’re face to face, this all feels entirely too real—but hasn’t it always? Hasn’t he _craved_ this, desperate for Izumi’s touch—and more than that, for Izumi’s breath hot on his ear, whispering gentle words? He folds his arms across his chest, firming his jaw. “If you love me,” he says, voice as measured as he can manage, “you should be a man about it. Because, Izumi, your prince…” He swallows, feeling suddenly very exposed. “Your prince…would die for your love.”

Ah, that’s it. He’s done for. 

Izumi grabs Tempo’s reins, tying them into a makeshift knot around a low tree branch as an afterthought before he snatches Leo up by the front of his shirt, shoves him back against the trunk of that same tree, and—and feels his heart leap into his throat, his stomach twisting into knots, his breath stuttering. 

_You’re so beautiful, you’re perfect, you’re everything_ —all of those things stick to his tongue, and Izumi exhales a frustrated noise before he simply grabs up Leo’s face in his hands and meets him half-way, pulling him into the kiss he’s been _dying_ to plant there for years. His nerves dissolve in an instant—Leo is warm, soft, so fucking real that it hurts—and he steps forward, kissing Leo again, his fingers dragging through his fiery hair, a thigh shoved between Leo’s to hold him in place for kiss after kiss. “Milord,” he rasps helplessly, “you’ve made _such_ a mistake telling me that.” 

Leo is on fire.

He’s sure he’s burning to ash, because Izumi is so powerfully, inescapably _here_ , touching, holding, exploring, _pressing_ him against an old-growth oak, pouring everything Leo has ever wanted into him as he gasps. He’s wanted to wind his hands through Izumi’s silver-cloud hair for a decade, and does now, yanking it fiercely out of its tie. It’s as soft as he’s imagined, and he lets his fingers splay, as delighted by that as he is by Izumi’s tongue in his mouth, by Izumi’s thigh between his own. His eyes burn when he looks up, beseeching, holding onto Izumi’s hair to keep him from leaving as much as it’s to touch and feel. 

“Tell me,” he pleads, hungry for the words even as he shifts his feet apart, shivering when Izumi’s thigh presses against his cock. He’s always known it would feel good to be fucked by Izumi, always desired it—but to be _loved_ by him is something he’s never even considered, with every aching glance he’s shot at the other boy. “Tell me again you won’t ever stop.”

Izumi groans at that, and sucks on Leo’s tongue instead for a moment to shut him up, to shut himself up, to get more of Leo’s taste in his mouth. Leo’s fingers dragging through his hair feel suddenly a million times more intimate than any girl’s mouth on his cock, and he shudders, pressing forward to let his cock press hard against Leo’s hip. “I _can’t_ stop,” he corrects with a breathless laugh, pawing a hand down Leo’s chest, hiking up his shirt to run his fingers over the skin beneath. “I can’t and I won’t. Leo…” 

His head tilts, and he finds a spot on Leo’s neck to suck on, feeling the way his pulse jumps underneath his mouth. “I want to eat you alive,” he breathes, his fingers gently pinching one of Leo’s nipples. “You’ll let me, won’t you?” 

Leo nods before his mind catches up, and he looks around, breaking apart to laugh at himself. “Not…on a main thoroughfare,” he says, stroking his hands over Izumi’s chest, admiring the muscles there, taking his time as his cock swells. “I’m not saying no! I want—Nnh, I want you inside of me, I want you to make it so I can’t walk for a week,” he breathes, eyes hazy with the way his blood rushes south. “Just not where anyone could find us.”

“I’m not getting back on that horse right now.” Izumi’s fingers drag southward to cup Leo through his breeches, squeezing slowly as he surges forward again to kiss and bite at Leo’s neck. He’s not _really_ sure he could stop even if a god came between them right now, so help him. “What d’you know about not walking for a week, Milord?” he lowly teases. “You’ve been listening to too many rumors about me.” 

Leo lets out a frustrated, thirsty little whine, then grabs Izumi’s hand with all the determination he has, yanking him off the road and into the trees. Tempo will be fine by the road, and shouldn’t be witness to this anyway. 

Light flickers through the trees, dappling the fallen leaves, and Leo drags them down, shoving Izumi to his back, kneeling astride him to kiss him again. “I’ve heard lots of things about you,” he says, voice belying how far he is from calm. “I’ve always—since we were so much younger, I always made the girls tell me what bedding you was like.”

“You…you _what?_ ” Izumi snorts out a laugh as he flops onto his back, amused as much as he is aroused by Leo’s sudden motivation. “What did they say?” he asks with a grin, grabbing Leo around the waist, thumbing over his hipbones with a hitching sigh as his hips arch up on their own accord, letting the hard line of his cock rub against Leo’s ass. “Apparently something good, if you’re still this interested.” 

“They could have told me it was made out of horse dung and I’d still want you,” Leo admits, eyes lidding as Izumi grinds against him. His skin tingles with excitement, for some reason making his nipples tighten and twinge. He can imagine it, he thinks, and he confesses in a hushed whisper, grinding and rocking and _flexing_ down, “I’d make them tell me how you touched them, and where, and how hard, and I’d go back to my room and try to touch myself that way. I was…so jealous, when they talked about having you in their—I wanted one, just so I could feel you, but then I found out that two men…” His face is deep red now, but he doesn’t look away, daring Izumi to laugh. 

Izumi abruptly rolls them, pinning Leo onto his back, nestled firmly between his thighs. “Milord,” he murmurs, his eyes lidded and bright in the low light, leaves sticking to his loose hair as it tumbles over his shoulders, “you’re _so_ cute.” 

Leo’s neck is fair game again, and Izumi sucks on the arc of his throat as his fingers yank open the lacings of Leo’s pants, reaching in them to immediately wrap around his cock. It takes his breath away for a moment. It isn’t as if he’s never seen it before, but actually getting to touch it is something else entirely, especially when it fits within his grasp like it’s meant to be there, even when it’s hard and flushed and making his fingers sticky. “You really want me inside of you so badly?” His thumb drags over the head of Leo’s cock, pressing down gently, stroking down the underside of it. “Most men…heh, I guess you don’t know any of those stories, huh? Most men want my mouth instead, right here.” 

Leo shakes his head, overwhelmed already, on the verge of spilling over Izumi’s hand in the first second. “If you did—too much, I want you to keep touching me, Izumi…I’ll die if you stop, I’ll kill you if you stop!”

Maybe that’s overdramatic and silly, but it just feels honest at the moment, when every time Izumi touches him it lights a fire under his skin, back arching off the forest floor. Izumi looks like a debauched god, sunlight streaming through his hair, making his face look soft and shadowed turned away from the light. His mouth is sinful, dragging pants and squeals out of Leo’s throat when he sucks on his neck, and Leo’s thighs tremble, then spread eagerly, hips rocking up. “If you…just a little more, I’ll…”

“Mnn, you’ll what? You’ll come for me?” If he sounds overeager, it’s because he is. Izumi’s own cock throbs, aching in time with the sound of his pulse pounding in his ears, and his fingers squeeze harder, stroking with every little squeak and shudder. “I’m not gonna stop,” he promises, tilting his head to nip at the lobe of Leo’s ear, tugging on it deliberately. “Even if you come for me now, I’ll make you do it again, and again, once I get my cock inside of you.” 

Leo’s vision whites out, and his back spasms as he arches off the fallen leaves, spurting his seed over his belly and Izumi’s hand at those filthy words, his cry reverberating through the forest. “Aahhh…nnh, it’s, it’s too much, it’s…gods, any time you want me to come quickly just whisper that in my ear, I suppose…” 

“Heh, called that one.” Izumi sits back, smug, taking in the sight of Leo sprawled out and sated with a long, content sigh. “I bet I could get you off just by talking to you. Did those girls tell you I was good at that, too?”

He pulls his hand up, taking a tentative lick of one of his fingers before sucking it into his mouth, his eyes fluttering. “You need to stop tasting like that, Milord,” he murmurs. “Or I’ll be on my knees for you too often in a way that has nothing to do with being your squire.” 

Leo bites his lip as his cock twitches again, a low shudder traveling through his whole body, another little bit of liquid squeezing out of his cock, slowly softening against his belly. “I’m very angry,” he breathes, eyelashes fluttering. “That I didn’t know you were tumbling boys, so I couldn’t ask any of them what to expect. What would they tell me, hmm?”

“…I’ll tell you later.” Izumi leans over him again, nuzzling underneath his chin, tilting his head down again to steal a kiss. “Did you imagine it any particular way, Milord?” He reaches down, idly unlacing his own breeches, giving his own cock a squeeze before he loses his mind. “I aim to please.” 

Leo’s eyes drop, and his cock stops going soft immediately, lurching almost painfully back to hardness when he actually catches sight of a man’s hard cock for the first time in his life. “It’s different from mine,” he murmurs, almost marveling even as his body shudders, feeling overwarm and sated all at once. “Ah, they weren’t lying, it’s big, isn’t it?”

_I mean, I guess it’s average_ isn’t the way to boast about his dick, so instead, Izumi lets himself gloat. Apparently, girls think it’s big and Leo is inclined to agree, which is _very_ delightful. “Is that what they said? Heh, good. You wanna touch it, Milord?” He grabs for one of Leo’s hands before he replies, pulling it down to his cock—and he regrets his choices, because _he’s_ supposed to be the one cool about this. Leo’s hand is warm and _soft_ , with even the callouses from archery and swordplay sort of muddled from high-quality oils and lotions, and Izumi bites his lip, sagging forward, his face buried down into Leo’s hair. “If you wanted it so badly, you should’ve just _done_ that, you know,” he groans. “You’re the prince, you can do whatever you fucking want.” 

Leo stops breathing. He wraps his hand around Izumi’s cock, feeling out the contours of every bit, exploring its ridges and curves with his fingertips, dipping them low, dragging them up, letting one press at the slit in the head, then slide down to stroke up the shaft. “It’s quite nice,” he says, soft as he stares, almost hypnotized. His eyes flick up to Izumi’s face, sees his eyes blown with pleasure, and he abruptly firms up his hand, stroking Izumi the way he’d stroke himself, determined to coax every bit of pleasure out of him. “I want to watch you lose yourself. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

Izumi swallows audibly, his head thunking down against Leo’s shoulder. “T-that’s…that’s…do you want it in you or not?” he whines, his face flushing hot at how he sounds, little better than the girls he tosses around in the hay. It’s because it’s Leo, of course; Leo, who he’s been dreaming about since he was _ten_ , Leo, who he’s wanted to just _kiss_ for years, Leo, who he’s pretty sure has his heart and brain and every little pleasure-seeking nerve in his body wrapped up in his hand right now. He bites down another, helpless sound, raking his hair out of his face with one hand as his eyes flick down, watching the way Leo’s hand moves over his cock. 

Well, mistake number ten for the day. 

Izumi comes with a startled, ragged gasp, spilling over Leo’s perfect, perfect fingers, and he sags forward with a broken noise, his fingers digging into crushed leaves as much as handfuls of Leo’s hair. “Fuck,” he curses, his eyes fluttering hard. “You…ah…I swear…I’m not…normally this easy, it’s…it’s your fault…” A lie, he’s usually pretty damned easy, but Leo makes it even _easier._

Leo smiles, eyes almost slitted with pleasure, moving his hand up to his mouth to take a little exploratory lick. He’s heard enough stories about how bad a man’s seed tastes, but maybe Izumi’s father really wasn’t human and he really isn’t a man, because his eyes close, and he sucks his thumb into his mouth with a soft moan. The bitter musk is strong, but not unpleasant, and the idea of what it is, what he’s got on his tongue, is so startlingly hot in his mind that his body shudders, a fresh spurt of liquid heat splattering on Izumi’s belly.

“Did you just…fuck, lucky you,” Izumi breathlessly laughs, and he smears a hand through the mess on Leo’s stomach, unrepentant. “Nn, Milord…take me back to your chambers, we can hide away in there as long as you like. I want it to be perfect for you.” Of _course_ , any other time he’d have oil on his person, and any other time he wouldn’t be so…hair trigger. He blames Leo entirely. _What the fuck, cherry boy._

Leo stretches, feeling as content and unconcerned as a cat who’s gotten the cream, reaching up to tug on Izumi’s loose hair again. “You’re the one who said you weren’t getting on a horse. Ah, it’s probably for the best, right? If you’d taken me here, I’d have had trouble getting back on Tempo. Right? I mean, I’m no maiden, I won’t bleed, right?”

“That was before, when I was…ugh, you’re the worst,” Izumi mutters, tugging against the hold on his hair to slide down, dragging his tongue up Leo’s stomach, licking him clean. “Mmn, I’ll take good care of you, you won’t bleed…but…” Right, where was he going with that? Leo is musky and bright on his tongue, and this was mistake number twenty, probably. Right. “But horseback won’t be _fun_ for a day or so.”

“Stop licking that,” Leo warns, voice husky, “or we won’t get anywhere.” 

And because he _wants_ to get somewhere, he shoves Izumi off, somehow rolling up to his feet with a sigh, tying his breeches and pulling down his shirt. There are leaves in his hair, and he plucks them out one by one, letting them fall back to the forest floor. One of them is lovely, all reds and golds around the thick veins, the length of his hand, and he saves that one, tucking it into Tempo’s saddlebags once he gets to the road. “If we ride fast it’s only four or five minutes, but the guards will ask why we’re in such a hurry.”

Izumi makes a face, sticking his tongue out at Leo before running it over his lower lip as he climbs to his feet, retying and straightening himself. “Sounds bad. I don’t want to look at anyone ugly right now.” He pauses, shoving his hair back from his face. “You completely lost my hair tie, didn’t you. Fuck you, Milord.” 

Leo reaches into his pocket, pulling out a leather thong and passing it over. “Fuck me,” he agrees cheerfully. “I always have one, since we were young. You get so grumpy if you lose one.”

“Oh, thank god,” Izumi sighs, immediately tying the mess of his hair back and out of the way. “My hair’s annoying if it isn’t out of the way, obviously.” He reaches down, casually giving Leo’s ass a squeeze. “Well, up with you. You might as well _look_ like you’re in charge.” 

“What’s this _look like_?” Leo demands, offended as he scrambles up onto Tempo’s back, leaning forward to untie his reins from the tree branch. “I’m your prince, bastard. Show some respect.”

Izumi pulls himself up behind Leo with a snort of amusement. “Yes, yes, Your Highness, you’re my prince. I respect you plenty.” He slings his arms around Leo’s waist, now rather gleefully content with being behind him and having full access to the side of his neck. “You’re very cute if you think no judgement is passed on who rides behind who on a damned horse, though. Ah, it’s for the best, I suppose.”

“For the best?” Leo asks, curious. Izumi is being a brat, of course, but Leo knows his allegiance is almost painfully loyal, dedicated and firm to his cause. “You think it’s good that people think I’m putting your ankles up by your ears?”

“Better they think it’s me than you.” 

Leo blinks, nudging Tempo back to a fast walk, pointing him towards the palace. He starts trying to trot, the barn-sour idiot, and Leo reins him in. “Why? What does it matter?”

“It doesn’t, not to me. But you’re going to be king someday—and ultimately men are stupid. They think if you’ve got your ankles by your ears that you’re somehow less a man.” Izumi snorts, rolling his eyes. “So if word does get out about us—it won’t, if we’re smart—I’d rather everyone that matters think that I’m your woman than the other way around. I’m not listening to anyone disparage you, I’ll kill them.”

“You’d be a very beautiful lady, at least,” Leo muses. Everywhere Izumi touches him from behind, his skin prickles, hungry to respond. He nearly stops a dozen times, hauling Izumi back into the woods for another round, and a little smile graces his face. “I can’t believe you love me. I don’t feel like I’ve earned it, but I want to.”

“Don’t be stupid about it,” Izumi mutters, annoyed that his face is suddenly hot, and he reaches up to pinch one of Leo’s nipples out of revenge. “It’s not a matter of ‘earning’ anything, but if it was, you would’ve a long time ago, Milord.” 

Leo squeaks, and slaps at Izumi’s hand. “Stop that, I’m no woman,” he hisses, though it feels good, it feels better than good, and he adds quietly, “You can touch that again when we’re in my room, though. It feels good…?”

“See, there it is, the mindset I was just talking about. Men like just about everything a woman does, Milord.” But Izumi’s expression is amused, and he behaves for now, dropping his hands back to Leo’s hips. “But they’re _much_ more attractive about it. Women are fine to put your dick in, but that’s about it, honestly…” 

Leo reaches back, flicking Izumi’s forehead. “None of that talk,” he warns, with a bit of his authority in his voice. “I won’t have my knights even thinking things like that. I want to hear respect and chivalry, bastard page.”

Izumi makes a face and leans back, hopefully out of Leo’s reach. “When has a woman ever _complained_ about me?” he retorts, rubbing at his forehead. “It’s her husband, and it leads into a duel, more often than not. Don’t make me bite my tongue even around you, Milord, I’ll go mad.” 

Mollified, Leo sits back, clicking his tongue at Tempo. “How many men have you tumbled? I won’t bother asking how many scores of women it’s been.”

“Good, because I don’t know that number.” Izumi hesitates, his fingers drumming against Leo’s hips. “Now, are we counting handjobs, blowjobs…all of that? If we’re just talking about going the whole _way_ , that narrows it down a bit…” 

“What’s the whole way? The arse?”

“Yes.” Izumi just barely resists sliding a hand down to grab a handful of Leo’s for emphasis. “So is that what we’re counting? Because that’s…like…th…r….five.” 

Five isn’t too many for Leo to fight, he supposes, so he relaxes, winking back over his shoulder at Izumi. “I just want to know how many men I need to make you forget with how good I am,” he says, as if he’s got some kind of confidence based on having learned two days ago that men can have sex with each other.

“….Milord…..” Izumi shuts his eyes, heaving a sigh. “They were all forgettable, I can assure you. There’s no contest already. Do you know how many times _I’ve_ been inside of a man?” 

“Eh? Five? Isn’t that what we were counting?”

“Five times there’s been a cock in someone.” Izumi holds up a pair of fingers in front of Leo’s face. “Twice. Twice I’ve been in a man.”

Leo’s eyes go wide. “Really? I only have to fight two men? Ha! I can take both of them, no problem.” He turns in his saddle, raising an eyebrow. “Did you like it, the other way? I’m glad you’ve done it, then you can tell me if I’m doing it wrong.”

“The only wrong way to do it is to not bathe, and considering I know your bathing _schedule_ , that’s a nonissue,” Izumi dryly says. “I liked it—but that’s because I’m ridiculously picky about it, and _only_ pursued opportunities that I knew would work out well for me. Most men are horrific, and I say this _preferring_ the company of them in bed tenfold.” 

“Eh? You prefer them?” Leo’s brow furrows. “You’re being confusing on purpose or I just don’t understand. Do you just like them better because you haven’t had them as often, or because you’re like me?”

“More explanation is required before I agree to being ‘like you’, Milord.” 

The tips of Leo’s ears flush pink, and for once, he’s grateful that it’s difficult to look Izumi in the eyes while they’re riding like this. “Thinking about lifting a girl’s skirts doesn’t make me hard,” he confesses. “Whenever I’ve touched myself, I’ve always thought of a man touching me, not a woman. Not even once.”

“Ahhh.” Izumi drops his chin atop Leo’s shoulder thoughtfully. “Women specifically don’t do much for me,” he admits after a moment. “And I certainly never think of them when I’m touching myself. It’s always men, like you. The only reason I go after women like I do is…well, they’re far more receptive. It’s the reaction that I like more than anything. If men would act like that, I’d only chase men, I think.” 

Leo sighs. “I wonder what it would be like, to just…have sex whenever I wanted to. It sounds like a very nice life.”

“…Milord, I hope you realize that by acknowledging that I want to have sex with you and you want to have sex with me, that’s _basically_ how it’s going to be from here on out.” 

“Eh?” Leo blinks slowly. “But you’ll be sick of me, and there’s all the girls to attend to, right?”

“Oh…oh, no, I don’t care about them, you’re misunderstanding entirely. I literally don’t even know most of their names, why would I ever pass you up for a _woman?_ ” 

“Oh.” The idea that Izumi— _Izumi_ —would give up his womanizing ways just because Leo became available makes him sit up a little straighter, mouth turning up at the corners, head held a little higher. “That’s right. You love me. Hmm, we’re going to have to get very good at hiding it, I’m going to want to do it quite a bit.”

“Good. Because I literally always want to, you’re going to have to beat me away with a stick. Speaking of hiding it,” Izumi sighs, giving one of Leo’s thighs a light pat, grateful Leo can’t see the smile trying to curl on his lips. “We shouldn’t arrive at your chambers together. Leave me and Tempo at the stables, I’ll put him away and then meet you. Take a bath while you wait. Not an insult, by the way, a request that will make us both happier.” 

“You’re going to have to stop ordering me around,” Leo says grumpily, hand resting on Izumi’s, giving it a little squeeze. “Someone hearing you talk like that will be far worse than seeing us arrive at my chambers together, they’ll think I’m letting you put on airs. Oh…” He taps one of the bruises on the side of his neck. “And fix these, please. The last thing I need is Father thinking I’ve tumbled some serving maid, he’d have a hunt to find the poor trollop to see if I’ve gotten her a bastard.”

“I talk like this with everyone,” Izumi grouses, even though he knows Leo is right, and he pulls one hand away to brush aside Leo’s hair, admiring the bruises he left already. “I’m just going to put them right back, this seems like a waste of effort.” 

Leo shrugs. “Get used to it. My whole life is an endless waste of effort—putting on clothes that are too fancy, eating with nineteen forks in one place sitting, learning a dozen bows and twenty dances. Showing up not looking like I’ve spent the night on a tavern floor is one of them, so if you’re going to leave marks, you’ve _got_ to clean them up. I…I hope you’re just complaining, because not doing it could be really dangerous.”

“I’m just complaining, Milord. Aren’t you lucky that you’ve fallen for a forbidden sorcerer? What would you do otherwise?” 

It’s not strictly necessary to put his mouth on those marks again, but Izumi does in a series of kisses, each lingering, tingling touch healing up those bruises in short order. “There you go, good as new,” Izumi sighs, briefly closing his eyes to stave off the sudden, annoying headache. “Ahh…I hate that, especially because I’m _going_ to want to put more…” 

Leo puts a hand to his neck, tracing where Izumi’s mouth had just been, feeling the skin tingle as if he’d rubbed it with wintermint. “My wintermint knight,” he says fondly, a little smile on his face. “Giving me healing kisses to take away the rest of his kisses. That’s a cycle I don’t mind being in.”

“Not a knight yet, Milord,” Izumi murmurs, squeezing Leo about the waist. “Hurry up and become king. Then I can be on my knees in front of you publicly all the time…for one reason or another, heh.” 

Leo leans back, taking that comfort before they pass the palace gates, the guards waving him through on the basis of his hair alone. “Careful of your words, my love,” he murmurs under his breath. “Wishing for me to be king could sound like wishing for my father to die. And we all know you’re his favorite person already.”

“I thought that was a very diplomatic way of saying it. I suppose this country squire still has a great deal to learn.” Izumi doesn’t push it further and instead holds his tongue, because Leo calling him ‘ _my love_ ’ is more than enough to temper him for the time being. _How embarrassing._ He sighs to himself, cheeks faintly flushed and hands jittery. “Everyone’s going to think I’ve been finally whipped by some woman. How annoying.” 

“It’ll be a good excuse for why you’re not flipping every skirt in the Capitol anymore,” Leo teases, feeling a warm little glow in his chest, creeping up to his neck. No, he’s got to get this under control—but how, when every word out of Izumi’s mouth makes him feel like a lovesick maiden, finally sent a thornless rose? “I’ll send you embarrassing flowery missives that you’ll have to open in front of everyone at breakfast, they’ll all wonder who your mystery mistress is.”

“Don’t you dare. There’s a trail attached to that sort of thing, someone could find out it’s you and then what will we do?” Izumi opens his mouth, wanting to say more on the topic of _not flipping every skirt anymore_ , but that’s a surefire way to ruffle Leo’s feathers, judging by how jealous he was of a mere stableboy. “I have a reputation to uphold,” he says with a sniff instead. “Let’s not destroy it.”

“No, no, they won’t know it’s me!” Leo insists, enjoying the idea now. “I’ll invent a whole identity—I’ll be some winsome minor country Lady—ooh, I’ll be a widow—and I saw your face at court and of course fell immediately in love with you—I’ll be Lady Elessandara of, hmm, I’ll figure out where she’s from later, and she’s working up the courage to marry a younger man—“

“Milord, I’m telling you…” Izumi trails off on a long sigh, reaching around Leo to grab Tempo’s reins and steer him towards the front of the stable. “Forget it, we’ll talk about our methods of keeping this under wraps later. Off with you, I’ll deal with your horse like a real attendant while you go get pretty for me.” 

“Are you saying I’m not pretty enough already?” Leo asks archly. “I’ll make myself very clean for you, though. That’s what you really mean, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Yes, that’s what I mean. I’m squeamish and fickle, take that knowledge and run with it.” 

Leo laughs, reaching back to pinch Izumi’s thigh before sliding off Tempo, giving the horse’s withers a pat. “Did you make your stableboy clean up before you grabbed him?” he teases. “Or is that only for princes?”

“I didn’t put my mouth or cock anywhere _near_ where it matters,” Izumi bluntly says, hopping off of the horse in short order and pulling the reins over his head. “And I certainly didn’t lick my hand clean after shoving it down his pants. I’ve already broken a few of my own rules because it’s you, Milord.” 

“Good. Break them all, I’m worth it.” They’re in public, so Leo winks instead of giving him a kiss, darting off towards his chambers.

Unfortunately, one of his father’s advisors catches him, dragging him kicking and screaming into a stupid consultation meeting about Kalum Island building warships, which turns into a three-hour meeting on effective spy deployment. By the time he escapes, it’s long dark, and he scrubs himself down resentfully, finally making his way back to his (doubtlessly empty) quarters to flop facedown into his bed. 

It seems like a dream, that Izumi had confessed his love, touched him, wanted to be his. 

“ _This_ is the kind of security your guards offer you?” An oil lantern flickers on next to a chair on the other side of the room, and Izumi stares over at Leo, chin in hand, unimpressed. “Not even checking your room before you enter? I didn’t even have to hide, that’s entirely unacceptable.” 

Leo starts up, twisting around to sit up in shock, staring at Izumi as if unable to believe that he’s real. “Are you a spirit?” he accuses. “If I confront a spirit about being a spirit, it fades.”

“No, Milord, just a very bored page.” Izumi stifles a yawn behind one hand as he pulls himself to his feet. He obviously has bathed recently as well, his hair down and fluffy save for a pair of tiny braids pulling his hair back from his face on either side, and there’s little trace of clothing that would make him look like anyone’s squire or knight, considering his sword is unbuckled. “A bored page that _apparently_ has to scold your entire staff about not protecting you properly…I say, as if they’d pay attention to me. It was convenient this time, but not desirable.”

He leans his sword against a table next to Leo’s bed, and casually drops himself onto the mattress, sinking back with a sigh, his eyes fluttering. “Even noble ladies don’t have beds like this…you could have wooed me with this alone.” 

Leo sits back on his heels, fluttering his lashes. “Comparing me to a noble lady as if there’s any comparison,” he sniffs. “I’m far higher born, you know. My bed is softer, my room better appointed, and my legs harder to part for wayward rogues.”

“Ahh, so now I’m a wayward rogue?” Izumi rolls onto his side as he makes himself at home in Leo’s bed, sticking out his tongue. “Good. I’ll take your honor before I leave, then. Come kiss me, Milord, you kept me waiting and cold for hours and I’m inclined to sulk.” 

Leo crawls close, threading his hands through Izumi’s hair, settling his knees onto either side of Izumi’s hips, eyes intent and hungry. “Your prince forbids you from sulking,” he breathes, hands fisted in Izumi’s hair like silver threads. “When he tried for hours to get to you, and cleaned himself for you...and still can’t believe that you’re real. Make love to me.”

“You still can’t believe I’m _real?_ ” Izumi teases, smoothing his hands down Leo’s back, stroking down his hips before curling lower to grab handfuls of his ass and squeeze. “But I’m right here. You’re so _soft_ , Milord, how charming.” 

He rolls them before Leo can complain about the teasing, and buries his face into Leo’s neck, quickly kissing and biting to leave one of the marks he had wanted there earlier once more. He nestles between Leo’s thighs, a content, rumbling sound leaving his throat. “Knowing that you’ve touched yourself thinking about me in this very bed…I like that.” 

“Over and over,” Leo admits shamelessly, letting his thighs part, rocking up already, desperate for some of that beautiful friction he’d had earlier, hungry for Izumi’s touch once more like he’d had it in the woods. “Everywhere, I’ve touched myself so many times wishing it was you...tell me what to do, I want you.”

“Just relax, I’m taking care of you, remember?” 

Big words from someone trying not to come off as jittery and overstimulated already. It’s not like Leo’s some throw-away woman—it’s _Leo_ , and Izumi draws back with a huff of breath, yanking a pouch off of his belt. “Strip,” he softly orders, giving Leo’s shirt a gentle flip upward. “Have you ever put your fingers inside before?” Honestly, he never expected _the prince_ to want that from _him_ —the other way around, definitely, but…

Leo nods, eyes wide as he strips, tossing his shirt and breeches to the side. “A couple of times. Only with the door and window locked, I was so sure someone would come in. It...” He bites his bottom lip, splaying out like an offering, letting his naked skin brush against the coverlet. “I’m sure it’ll feel better when you do it, I think I was doing it wrong.” He must have been, because it hadn’t felt good at all, reminding him of unpleasant sensations and too-much tightness.

“Mm. Probably. It’s hard to do it yourself.” Izumi licks his lips as his eyes drag down Leo’s body, and his fingers fumble with the ties of the pouch before he pulls out a little bottle of oil. His belt hits the floor after that, and Izumi uncorks the bottle with his teeth. “Turn over, Milord, and get comfortable. I promise I’ll make it feel good this time.” 

Leo almost objects--he has plenty of scented oils, plenty that Izumi couldn’t even hope to get his hands on without a royal title--but Izumi seems to know what he’s doing, and maybe this is a special kind, a special brand, like the specialty bread flour his father’s kitchens buy. He turns over, grabbing a down pillow to hug it, feeling a bit less vulnerable now that Izumi can’t see his face. It’s also sort of exciting, knowing that he can’t see Izumi, but Izumi can touch him at any time, that he’s so open and displayed to Izumi’s eyes, and he shifts, wiggling his ass up and down. “Do you look at me?” he asks softly. “Like men look at women, when they see a girl and think what she’d look like with her skirts up around her ears? Do you look at me and think what it would be like to touch me? I look at you like that.”

“Both,” Izumi admits with a snort of laughter, leaning over Leo from behind to brush his hair aside and kiss the back of his neck. The oil drips over his fingers, more or less scentless, but thick and slippery, and he grabs one of Leo’s hips to still him when he drags a pair of fingers down the cleft of his ass. “But mostly the latter,” he breathes, planting an open-mouthed kiss to the curve of Leo’s shoulder. “And I’m about to know what it’s like to touch you inside, Milord. Mnn, take a deep breath and relax, it’ll slide in nice and easy.”

In theory, at least—Izumi is grateful his fingers are long and slender, which makes it much easier to let the first one sink inside, in spite of Leo being _achingly_ tight. It takes Izumi’s breath away, and he shifts closer, wasting no time to press his finger in to the second knuckle and curl it inside, seeking and stroking. “There you go. You’re so hot in here, Milord…” 

Ah. That feels _very_ different from doing it himself, for certain.

Leo tastes wet silk, and realizes he’s bitten into his pillow, some of the down feathers pricking against his tongue. The sensation of Izumi’s fingers pressing against him, then _in him_ , is enough to make his whole body tense, and they’re in so _deep_ that he feels tears prickle at his eyes. He pants, trying not to be a brat about it, trying not to simply order Izumi to take them out immediately and get on _his_ hands and knees instead if he likes it so much. “That’s...ah, they’re in so deep,” he whines, feeling his sweat soak into the pillowcase. “That’s--Nnh, it’s so...” 

It’s so tight and so _much_ , but he fears that if he says that, Izumi will think he’s complaining, and he’ll stop. He’d rather take Izumi’s whole sword up his ass than risk that.

“No good yet, huh?” Izumi wryly translates, his voice gentle, sympathetic for once, and he runs his other hand down Leo’s back, stroking along the arc of his spine, rubbing into the tension there as he pulls out his hand, just enough to squeeze a second finger in. It’s tight, _so_ tight, and he’s thankful for that oil easing it along, just a little. “Just…mm, trust me, what about here?” He’s probably got the right angle now, especially when he can twist his wrist and curl his fingers back towards himself, stroking slowly. 

At first, Leo isn’t sure what Izumi means by _what about here_ , not when everything is so tense, stretched to the point that he feels as if he’ll tear any second. The feeling inside him is thick, uncomfortably full, and then Izumi curls his fingers, and his world changes.

One fingertip grazes over something he hadn’t known was inside of him, and he shouts, pitching forward, head smushed against his pillow as he keens, high and breathy and needy, not recognizing his own voice. He tries to talk, but his voice doesn’t work, and he shoves back mindlessly, demanding that feeling again.

“Theeere we are,” Izumi breathes, his eyes alight as he leans forward, pressing his fingers in deeper, pressing and rubbing at that same spot again and again. “That’s it, Leo, good boy—“ Never, _ever_ did he think he’d be saying something that to Leo, and his own face flushes hot, the jolt of arousal that drags straight to his cock making him shudder. “Be good and keep your voice down, or I’ll stuff something else in your mouth to _make_ you be quiet.”

“I’m, ah, gods of my _fathers_ , what is that--I’m trying, I swear, I’m--” 

Leo gulps for air, holding onto his pillow for dear life. He tries to nod, but all of his energy goes towards his urgent rocking back, mouth falling open when Izumi touches him like a pliant doll. No--like a cherished doll, like something that Izumi wants to hold on to and never let go, and that realization makes Leo’s cock ache. “I’m gonna--are you close, because I’m--”

“You can come a few times, don’t worry about me,” Izumi dismisses with a laugh, dragging his fingers slowly back to drip more oil over them before sliding them back in deep once more, stroking, practically _petting_ Leo from the inside out. “Go ahead and get this one out of your system. You’re so _pretty_ like this, Milord.” 

Leo shakes his head firmly, fingers sinking into the pillow. “Go back to calling me Leo,” he pleads, eyelids fluttering when Izumi slides his fingers back in. “N-no one calls me that, it’s intimate, it means you love, you love me, I’m--” 

He can’t even get the sentence out, and bites his pillow again, face screwed up in overwhelmed pleasure when Izumi strikes inside of him again, and _again_ , driving him mindlessly into ecstasy, spending himself all over the coverlet, arching up until his nipples drag against the sleek fabric.

“Fuck,” Izumi curses helplessly underneath his breath, his lips parted and mouth dry as he watches Leo come, arching and writhing just from the simple touch of his fingers. His own cock is so hard that he’s fairly certain his eyes are crossing, and he feels himself tremble, his hands shaking as he pets and soothes Leo through his orgasm. 

So help him, he _can’t_ wait. 

Izumi carefully draws his hand out, wiping it on the coverlet before he yanks his own shirt up and off of his head. He doesn’t have the time to kick his way out of his breeches, just to unlace them, and even that makes his breath come too fast, too hard. “Come here,” he groans, flipping Leo over and dragging him closer by the hips until those pretty, soft thighs splay to either side of his hips, and the hard bulge of his cock presses against him, twitching every single time Leo as much as breathes. “Leo,” Izumi murmurs obediently, lurching forward to kiss him, sucking on his lower lip as his hands drag up to play with and gently pinch his nipples. “Leo, you did so well, you look so good like this, but I’m gonna die if I’m not inside you, you know…” 

Leo’s head shakes side to side, and he reaches up, boneless and eager, dragging Izumi down for a hot kiss, tasting Izumi’s mouth over and over until he collapses back, breathless. His body feels like it’s singing, like it’s _ringing_ , and he hears his own voice humming a snatch of a melody as he dips a hand down, dragging it through the mess on his stomach, reveling in the feeling, in the filthiness of doing something like this where Izumi can watch him be lewd.

But then, Izumi is between his legs and saying his name, so anything is fair play, as far as he’s concerned.

“I’d command you as your prince,” he says softly, squeezing his thighs around Izumi’s waist. “But I’d rather ask you as your lover.” It’s going to hurt, he knows, but he’s a prince of the realm, and he is not afraid, not of something he’s wanted for years. He reaches down with his sticky hand, wrapping it around Izumi’s cock, guiding the tip to catch on his hole, then looks up to catch Izumi’s eyes. Ice blue surrounds him, and he murmurs, “Come inside, my love. Make me yours.”

_Ah, I’m going to die,_ Izumi dazedly thinks, his eyes fluttering just at the touch of Leo’s hand, never mind how hot he feels just like _this._ “I’ll teach you how it fits inside of you,” he breathlessly promises, amazed he’s able to put together any words at all, amazed more that he’s able to shakily grab for the bottle of oil, dripping the last of it over Leo’s fingers and cock alike. 

It helps—maybe. It’s something, especially when Leo is still _so_ tight and tense and trembly. Izumi would tease him, but he can do that later, when his cock isn’t so hard and he’s not so desperate to be inside. 

The head sinks inside with a soft growl of effort leaving Izumi’s throat, and his fingers drag down to grip at Leo’s hips, holding him when he gives into the urge to just shove forward, to bury himself in that unrelenting heat, until it feels so vice-tight and hot around him that he sags forward, panting into Leo’s neck. “H…hold onto me, love,” he groans, his voice rough around the edges, and Izumi grits his teeth against the desire to be anything but slow and careful. _If I hurt him, I’ll actually kill myself._ He can feel his cock throbbing, dripping inside, and he can’t seem to catch his breath because of it. “You’re…ahh..fuck, no other man or woman alive feels as good as you do, you’re going to be the death of me…” 

Izumi pushing into him is tense, uncomfortable, over-full, cramping...and not nearly as bad as he’d been expecting. Leo lets out a huff of relief, arms winding around Izumi’s neck, pulling him down for another kiss. His body moves on its own, arching up, moulding against Izumi’s, moving with him like he moves with his horse during a canter. He breathes, and the ache eases a little, and he can more fully focus on how it’s _Izumi_ , how there’s a thick lovely cock inside of him, pressing and dragging against his most sensitive parts.

More than anything, he’s excited, sliding his hands down Izumi’s back. Izumi is lost, Leo can tell, and that makes him feel powerful, makes him feel _alive_ , makes him squirm down and clench when he feels like it’ll help, wanting Izumi to lose himself completely. Everything smells good and feels slick, and Leo traces patterns on Izumi’s back with his nails. “You’re in so deep,” he breathes, mouth next to Izumi’s ear, teeth catching on his earlobe. “Izumi...this is where you belong, you know? I’m never letting you leave...”

“Ahh, thank god,” Izumi manages with a wet, ragged laugh, because those are the words of someone who doesn’t _hate it_. He shivers down to his toes courtesy of Leo’s mouth, courtesy of the scrape of his nails against his back, and he scoots his knees up closer, bracing himself as his hands dig into the bed, his arms shaking when Leo clenches down around him like that. “You…are you sure you haven’t…done this before?” he gasps, helplessly shoving forward, clawing a hand up to grab onto Leo’s headboard for more leverage to thrust in deep. God, it’s so much easier now that Leo relaxes and moves with him, and the slick, hot slide of it makes his eyes glaze. “Maybe you’re right, Leo, maybe I just need to be in you all the time—“ 

Leo tries to answer, but even the smallest flex of Izumi inside of him makes him whine, and he drags his nails down Izumi’s back again, thighs trembling as he wraps them tightly around Izumi’s waist. “Keeping you inside,” he agrees, eyes dark with lust and hunger. He’d swear he can feel Izumi as far inside as his chest, and he shifts on the bed for more leverage, rocking with him, squeezing down, gasping when that makes his vision go gray at the edges. “J-just--spill in me until you give me an heir, lock me up like your woman and let me have you like this all day--aah, look how hard talking like that is making me, h-help, I’m so _full_ \--”

_Who taught you to talk like that in the first place?!_ Izumi frantically thinks, even as he’s grabbing up handfuls of Leo’s ass to pull him down against him, to shove in harder, deeper, to thoughtlessly fuck him now when neither of them seem capable of having _enough._ “I’m about to fill you up even more,” he promises on a ragged, panting breath, a hand dragging down towards Leo’s cock, but getting distracted with the juts of his hipbones, the way his abdomen flexes and hollows out when Izumi’s cock slides in so deep that there’s no space left between them. “It’s so far in you—I wonder—if I spill enough inside of you, will I be able to f-feel that here—“

Izumi bites into his own lip, tasting blood to silence himself when he comes _hard_ , his vision whiting out when he spills. He swears he can _feel_ every throb of his cock all the way to the tips of his fingers, trembling when he feels Leo grow slicker inside when he mindlessly grinds forward just to milk out every single spasm that rakes through him. “You…gods, Leo, I…” Eloquence is _not_ a necessary thing, Izumi dazedly thinks, when he has his cock buried in his prince like this. 

Leo’s hands relax, going from clawing to petting, running gently through Izumi’s sweat-damp hair. “I’d do anything for you,” he whispers, eyes closed to let himself really feel the slick swell of Izumi inside of him. It still makes him pant, chest heaving with every pulse. “I’d rip the world apart for you.”

“Don’t, I like the world right now,” Izumi groans, his voice muffled when he buries his face down into Leo’s hair, blindly reaching down to curl his fingers around Leo’s cock, feeling it hot and heavy in his palm. “I’d offer to take care of this with my mouth, but…mmn, what was it? I’m not allowed to _ever_ pull out?” 

Leo’s mouth parts, and he hears his breath catch, rutting up against Izumi’s hand. “Just...use your hand,” he urges. “And talk, talk to me, use your silver tongue, please, I’m close just because you’re in me...”

“You’re going to spoil me by being so easy,” Izumi sighs gratefully, shifting to make _sure_ his cock stays inside, his hips pressed firmly to the curve of Leo’s ass, and his fingers take their time squeezing, stroking. “You act like a mare in heat, Milord.” Using Leo’s actual name is appropriate maybe 90% of the time, but right now…teasing, formal address is necessary. “The way you move against me—it’s like you’ll die if you don’t have it in you. Maybe I should take you back out to the stables and fuck you right in the hay, just like a stallion taking what’s his.” 

“H-how dare you?” Leo gasps. The words aren’t the loving, sinful ones he’d thought he’d hear, but something far darker, far more _bestial_ , and his cock responds by spilling immediately over Izumi’s hand, making him shiver and groan in Izumi’s arms. “I, why did, I’m no _mare_ in _heat_ , I should have you tossed out the window, do it again.”

Izumi stifles a laugh into the curve of Leo’s shoulder, and plants a warm, wet kiss there. “I get that a lot,” he teases easily, pulling his hand away and to his mouth instead. One lick reminds him that earlier wasn’t a pipe dream, and Leo still tastes _far_ better than a man should, making him shiver and suck each finger clean. “Mmn, you didn’t specify which silver tongue, so you ended up with my preference. Why do you taste so _good_ , what the hell are princes _made_ of.” 

“The good wishes of our subjects, according to my father,” Leo says serenely, stretching out and wriggling his toes, mouth slack at the aftershocks of tremors still coursing through his body. “Ah...I think it’s probably something a little more base, though. Where did you get those filthy words, anyway? You...you don’t really think I’m acting like that, do you?”

“Like a mare in heat? I mean, it’s an apt comparison when you’re squirming on me like that,” Izumi teases again, flopping down once he’s satisfied licking his hand clean, and nuzzles his face affectionately into Leo’s neck. “They’re just words, Leo. If it gets you off, what’s the harm? I don’t _really_ think you’re going to get knocked up, for example, but if I say it and you like it, then job well done.” 

Leo shrugs, and goes back to petting Izumi’s hair contentedly. “As long as you don’t expect me to actually give you a son, and you don’t think I’m really acting in a way that’s shameful. I like being unguarded and affectionate with you, I’d hate to think you were forming a low opinion of me.”

“Oh, no. Not in the slightest. Consider it praise, if anything, because I find you _ridiculously_ attractive.” Izumi fairly purrs underneath the petting, relaxing enough now to butt his head against Leo’s touch as he sprawls against him. Sex makes him honest, how unfortunate, but now it feels like it’s been a long-time coming with Leo. “Most men would slap me for trying to talk to them like I did with you…ahh, this is why you’re superior and so much more fun…” 

“No, you’re the perfect one,” Leo insists, stroking through Izumi’s hair, pulling a throw over both of them so they don’t get chilly, even with all this togetherness. “Most men...I feel like if I told most men that I liked this sort of thing, they’d think I was a bit less than them. That’s what you meant before, isn’t it? That if we were caught, it would be better if people thought me the ram, and you the ewe?”

“Exactly that.” Izumi can feel their skin start to stick together, and with anyone else, he’d insist on pulling out and away…but Leo is pleasantly warm and comfortable to stretch out against, and he’s _always_ been good at petting his hair, since they were young. “My reputation can take the blow. I can’t stand for anyone to speak poorly of you, I’d kill them.” 

“And if mine takes too much of a hit, it could cause a war,” Leo says softly, though his fingers don’t stop their petting. “Father’s still looking for a wife for me, though apparently there’s still no luck, thank the gods. If word got around that I was...hmm. I’m sure it’s different in different places, how they think of men like us?”

“Mmhm.” Izumi’s eyes flutter before he lets them slide shut, surrendering to the urge to flop open-mouthed and content with Leo’s fingers dragging against his scalp. Now he can _never_ cut his hair, what a shame. “In some countries, men can marry men…and I’ve been to cities outside of the capitol where it’s perfectly acceptable for men to kiss and embrace each other, just like men and women do here. I’ve found no one really _minds_ if you do it here, but…they don’t want to see it, or hear about it…and only if you aren’t a noble will they turn a blind eye. If you’re noble-born, or anything close to it, then you’re a waste.” 

“What causes it?” Leo asks curiously, winding a strand of silver hair around one finger. “What makes some men into women inside? A curse, maybe, or a god’s joke?”

“Nnnn, don’t say it like that,” Izumi complains, biting down onto Leo’s earlobe gently. “I don’t think we’re women inside, that’s a different sort _entirely._ I just like _men,_ pretty ones specifically, but they’re still men and so am I.” 

Leo huffs, though he doesn’t yank away from the teeth on his ear. “Is there a better word for it, then? You used to teach me slang when we were children, teach me a word for a man like us.”

“…There’s no _nice_ word for it. That’s why I never taught you that.” 

Leo’s brow furrows. His voice grows quieter, and he shifts, a little uncomfortable. “How bad is it?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. “If someone found out...how bad would it be?”

“I wouldn’t let it get to that point.” Izumi’s voice is firm when he says that, and he plants a kiss to the shell of Leo’s ear. “I’d tell them I seduced you because I’m a power-hungry whore, you’d exile me back to my country estate, and you’d still visit with your wife when you’re traveling to your summer home. That’s as bad as it could be, and even that’s workable, if not favorable.” Unmentioned is the loss of all of his titles to make sure Leo retained face, but it’s implied well enough, and needs must. 

Leo sighs. “I suppose that’s all I could hope for. Maybe when I’m king I’ll have it declared tolerable, like my great-grandfather did with having mistresses as long as they’re high-born widows. Nnh, I love this, but it’s starting to sting, and I think I may have to, ah...” He ducks his head, a little embarrassed, and darts a look at the lavatory at the end of his room.

“Inevitable,” Izumi sighs, and he gingerly, carefully shifts, pulling out and making a face at the sticky mess that follows. “Go, I’ll change the bedding and clean up here.If you’re terribly sore, let me know, I’ll see what I can do.” 

“You’re not kissing me there,” Leo warns, then pauses, thinking it over. “I...think. I think that would be weird.” Then he shrugs, and makes his way to the lavatory, wincing as his legs move and tug in ways he’s very much not used to. “This is very odd,” he calls from behind the curtain, as his insides rearrange themselves. “Does it get more normal after time? If I do it a lot?”

“More or less,” Izumi calls back, wiping himself clean and tugging his clothes back on and into place, just in case. Looking more or less ‘normal’ and ready to jump out the window at any point is a useful thing, no matter how much he’d like to be able to completely relax. He strips the top coverlet off, making sure nothing soaked through, before wiping it down to destroy most of the evidence (maids needn’t know his prince’s nighttime activities) and then folding it up to be put in the morning’s laundry. “You get used to it. Just be grateful I’m not particularly large, _that_ can cause some issues.” He pauses, folding down another blanket onto the bed. “You _know_ I don’t have to kiss you to do it, right? I just did that every time because then I had an excuse, heh.” 

“What?”

_Leo finishes wiping up, throwing the soiled cloths down his clothing chute, scowling as he reemerges. “All of those kisses were lies? I had my first wet dream about those kisses!”_

Izumi drops down onto the foot of Leo’s freshly made bed, batting his eyelashes innocently. “How else was I supposed to kiss you and get away with it? Being magical is _awfully_ helpful at times, Milord. But go on, tell me about your first wet dream, was my hair up or down?” 

“What if I said it was wrapped around my cock?” Leo retorts. It wasn’t his first dream, though it was a memorable one.

A snide comment dies on Izumi’s tongue, and he snaps his mouth shut. “Then I’d say I’m interested. I _have_ kept it long for you, I hope you know.” 

Leo smirks, leaping back onto the bed, nuzzling up against Izumi’s ear, as affectionate as a cat in her first heat. “Good. Do everything for me. Give me your whole life, and do as I say forever.”

“You’re a demanding lord, aren’t you?” Izumi murmurs, even as he grabs for Leo, pulling him close and kissing him firmly on the mouth. “But I like that. I’m at your beck and call.” 

“Don’t forget it.” Leo winds his arms around Izumi’s neck, hauling himself into Izumi’s lap, laying his head on Izumi’s chest. “I wouldn’t spread my legs for anyone else. Oh...you said you’ve done it both ways, right? Receiving and giving? Because I’ve got to try it that way, at least once.”

“Any time you want.” Izumi flops backwards, dragging Leo with him, and promptly wraps all four limbs around him. “Confession time, I suppose,” he wryly begins. “With men, I’ve always preferred it the other way—receiving, I mean. There’s really nothing _enjoyable_ about putting it in a man when I can do the same with a woman and it’s easier for everyone, you know? Or so I would have said prior to what just happened ten minutes ago. You’ve broken me, as expected.” 

Leo preens, rubbing against Izumi’s hands. “As expected for the prince you’ve sworn your life to. I’ll have all of your erections, they’re mine.”

Izumi’s eyes roll, and he yanks one of the blankets over them. “Let’s see if you can keep up with me, Milord. I have my reputation for a reason.” 

“Exactly. You’re worn-out. I’m fresh. You’ll have to work to keep up with me, wahaha!”

“Uh huh. Let’s see who can ride comfortably tomorrow and we’ll have this conversation again.” 

“Unfair comparison, I’m the one who got a cock up my arse. We’re doing it the other way next time and _then_ having a riding competition, Sir Experience.”

“Yes, yes, as if I’ve never had to go out riding after riding something else the night before. My prince is very adorable.” 

“My bastard page is about to be very boxed around the ears,” Leo grumbles, and pulls the blanket over Izumi’s head.

“Don’t do that, it might make me hard again.” 

“Is there anything that _doesn’t_ make you hard?”

“Nothing _you_ could do, unfortunately.” 

“Well! Then my life is doomed to be erotic suffering.”

“Get used to it, Le~o,” Izumi sing-songs, dragging Leo’s head underneath the blanket with him to kiss him once more. “You signed up for this.” 

Leo grins, green cat’s eyes slitted in the darkness. “Oh, no,” he says, in mock horror, and dips his head down lower. “Whatever will I do?”


	3. Chapter 3

“It’s no use scowling at me, boy. You’ve brought this life on yourself. If you didn’t want to have this kind of reputation, you should have kept your head down and kept working. But instead, everyone thinks of you as a brawler, a lawless, reckless idiot from the country backwoods. No one will ever want to work with you, and you’ll wind up with no name and no place. Your problem is that you’re ungrateful, boy. Many men would die to be in your position.”

It’s been some variation of the same tirade since they’d left the palace. Sir Arashi holds his back straight, eyes glittering under a fall of yellow hair streaked with brown, riding gloves tight on his hands. His horse, a snow-white fancy beast called Neigh, looks about to break into a parade trot at any moment. 

They pass through the city streets, leaving the palace in their shadow, facing the haunting silhouette of the Westerlands. Arashi’s voice carries to the folks in the marketplace, as if he’s making no effort to keep it quiet. “That attitude of yours isn’t going to get you anywhere in the Westerlands, boy. You think the Inglings will be impressed with some country bastard who thinks he can swing a sword, and thinks it’s funny to bully people younger than he? They’ll eat you alive and spit out your bones. Head up when I’m talking to you, boy, you brought this on yourself.”

Izumi is going to grind his teeth straight out of his own head. 

His hands are tight on Vale’s reins, and the tension makes the horse restless, irritably sidestepping when he’d normally be calm and unfazed by his surroundings. He feels ready to burst into a full-blown gallop at any moment, and Izumi has half the mind to let him, to free himself from this obnoxious prison once and for all. 

_You’re practically the same age as me! You can’t tell me what to do!_ Izumi had checked. He had _needed_ to know, because Arashi, in spite of his youth, has a title, has land, has enough of it to flaunt it over his head and snatch him away from the capitol instead of being sent home in disgrace, court access wholly revoked. 

If he wasn’t waiting, if he wasn’t _sure_ waiting was the right choice, he would’ve been a knight by now, and the strongest, deadliest one in all the land. 

It’s moot to fume about that now. It’s moot when he has to trail behind this fruitcake, this _obnoxious_ knight that makes Izumi’s teeth set into a permanent grind while his head still pounds from the lingering effects of a cold that has haunted him since a long, agonizing night in the stables while being on foal watch. Maybe if he just keeps his mouth shut, maybe, _maybe_ this will be something he can tolerate for the next few weeks if it means he’s not sent away entirely.

Vale tosses his head, irritated that _he’s_ irritated, and stumbles in the process. Izumi can still feel his unhappy favoring of his front right. _Sorry. I’ll do something about it later, it’s not like I could leave you behind._

“Young country nobles need to learn their place, you know. You can’t just go about laying into your betters with that strong right arm of yours and expect to get off with no consequences.” Arashi’s voice is deep and confident, and he nods at the ladies who pass by, drawing just as many glances from the girls as Izumi, giving him some competition for once. He returns each flutter of a handkerchief with a cordial nod, and at least two women faint in the streets. 

The streets widen, and Arashi’s lecture slowly fades away with the crowds. An hour later, they’re through the gates, and Arashi changes. His posture grows less rigid, he brushes his hair back into a tie, and he opens the laces of his shirt, letting it hang rogueishly open. Last, his voice changes, high and lilting as he lets out a laugh. “Chin up, darling boy. You look so sad, don’t make me pinch you to get you to squeak!”

“Are you possessed?” It’s the first thing that comes to mind and the one thing Izumi can’t bite his tongue about, not when Arashi is suddenly acting so _ridiculous._ Izumi isn’t sure what he hates more—being scolded nonstop by someone trying to throw their weight around, or…or _this_ , reminiscent of a country accent he’s beaten out of his own tongue, with all the flirty airiness of men in districts Leo isn’t allowed to hear about. His scowl won’t fade, and he gives Vale his head a bit more, which lessens the stiltedness of his gait, somewhat. “Touch me and I’ll cut your arm off. I’m not here because I want to be.”

“Oh, lighten up. We’re not in the city anymore, you know.” 

Arashi twists a bit, plopping a specially-made pad in front of him to let him ride sidesaddle on Neigh, facing Izumi with a cheeky grin. “I thought you were all about breaking rules, or why else did I have to pluck you out of there like a hot nut out of the fire?”

“I wasn’t breaking any rules this time.” Izumi’s lips purse into a tight line. “But no one wants to hear that.” 

His gloomy demeanor is broken by an abrupt sneeze, and he sniffs hard, biting back a groan of misery as he pulls out a handkerchief and blows his nose. “I wish I had gotten sent home,” he bemoans. “I want to die.” 

“Better to die than be sent home, I’d say. What’s wrong with you, hmm?” Arashi sits back, one arched brow slightly furrowed. “I thought you were just upset because the king scolded you, but I’ve heard you’ve been scolded lots of times while I’ve been away. Ahh, you were just a snot-nosed brat the last time I rode out with my old master--but you’re snot-nosed right now, aren’t you?”

“Because I’m still sick, you shitty bastard, stop pointing it out!” Izumi snarls, finally losing his sense of humor entirely and dropping any and all pretenses of speaking formally. He wipes his nose once more, sniffing as he stuffs his handkerchief away. “I—“ _Don’t give a fuck what the king has to say about me, he can go rot_. No, bite it back, bite it back. He doesn’t know this man, not well enough to vent his frustrations that won’t ever come to fruition. “I don’t care if I get punished for doing something wrong, I expect it,” he mutters, staring down at his gloved hands. “I didn’t do a damned thing wrong this time, though. This is bullshit.” 

Arashi clucks his tongue, shaking his head as he pats Neigh’s neck, reassuring the big mare that he doesn’t mean it for her. “What you did _wrong_ was losing your temper, from what I heard. Did you seriously think it would be forgiven if you punched a blooded knight in the face? You’re not even a real squire. Are you stupid? Seriously, is there something besides mucus in your brain?” Unlike most knights, he doesn’t follow his questions with _And keep a civil tongue in your head or I’ll cut it out_ , because what fun would that be?

“Some blooded knight he was, storming into the stables and grabbing the first horse that struck his fancy. That wasn’t his right, nor was insisting any of the boys there had to help him with the damned animal when it wouldn’t listen to a word he was saying—out of good sense, obviously.” Izumi sniffs again, fighting back the urge to sneeze once more, and he distracts himself by giving Vale’s shoulder a pat. “Vale knew he was a piece of shit, too. He got involved even before I did, and all I did at first was come out— _while I was sick_ —to catch my horse. That ‘blooded knight’ shouldn’t’ve tried to take a crop to a perfectly good horse in front of me. He deserved a punch to the nose, more, if I had had my sword on me.” 

“You’re making it hard for me to tell you that you’re an idiot,” Arashi warns him, “because damned but it sounds like I’d have done the same thing. Now, let me ask you, though. What do you think would have happened to me if I’d punched that stuffed-up little blight in the face? Nothing. I’m a knight, and a knight with a huge estate and a high title, and a reputation for killing lots and lots of Inglings. What would have happened to your friend the stableboy if he’d done it?”

“You’re telling me what I already know.” Izumi glares over at him. “Why do you think I did it instead? I wouldn’t be executed on the spot. Everyone thinks I lost my temper, but I knew exactly what I was doing, so tell me I’m an idiot again, go on.” 

“If you knew what was going to happen and you did it anyway, fine. But you knew what was going to happen and did it anyway, and now you’re glowering around at the world as if it owes you something?” Arashi rolls his eyes, then starts to braid Neigh’s mane, a little section at a time. “Grow up, boy. Heh, though I suppose you’re older than I am, even though you’re sooooo much less successful.”

“I don’t think the world owes me anything. I’m pissed that every shitty knight in the capitol is obsessed with status like you, or only there because of blood, like the fucking idiot I punched in the face. Working hard and being the best doesn’t mean anything, apparently.” Izumi’s expression darkens further. “I didn’t ask for you to ‘rescue’ me, you know. If all you’re going to do is rag on me for the decisions I’ve made, then I’ll head north to the mountains, thanks.”

Arashi blinks slowly, then stares at Izumi as if he’s grown an extra head. The words coming out of his mouth could have belonged to his angry past self of a few years ago, the misguided fool. “Do you...know who I am?” he asks finally, a little smirk playing around the corners of his mouth. “Like, more than just my name and title?”

“No. And I don’t care about you at all aside from the fact that you have a nice horse.” 

“Ah. Well, that would explain some things.” Arashi runs the tip of his tongue over his very clean teeth, amused. “It’s really a shame you don’t want to hear about me, since I’m the only thing keeping you alive, and I love talking about myself and how awesome I am.”

Izumi gives up, and takes the bait. He’s tired. “If you’re so awesome and amazing, why did you waste time out of your incredible day to drag me off when you clearly think I’m stupid?” 

“I’m so glad you asked, Izumi darling!”Arashi nudges Neigh closer to Izumi, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. “See, I’m the knight that’s known as the one who got famous on his _deeds_ , not just his name. And that’s why I get away with whatever I want. Because when I was a scrapper, I stepped on a lot of toes, and had to use whatever I could to get through. And now, I’ve got the whole court and the King himself--well, mostly the Queen, but the King too--in the palm of my hand, because no one is as good as I am at killing Inglings.” He winks. “So if you want to be yourself and get your way, learn to follow a good example. I’m the blueprint, my sweet.”

“Don’t touch me,” Izumi mutters, roughly shoving Arashi’s hand off of his shoulder and deliberately making Vale sidestep to avoid him—which he regrets, of course, hearing the way Vale grinds his teeth around his bit. _Sorry, sorry. Later, I’ll fix it later._ “Good for you, thanks for telling me what I already know about navigating through court.” It’s not like he can _say_ why he’s still a page at the ripe old age of 18, after all. That would give everything away, and if sucking up his pride and gaining no ground for years means he can serve directly at Leo’s side eventually, then…so be it. “I’ve never heard of you, so how much of a good example can you really be?” 

“Oh, so you spend a lot of time talking to the War Council, do you?” Arashi asks sweetly. “See, you hang out with the _court_ folk. I run with the ones that get things done. And if things go well while you’re out with me this time, I’ll introduce you. You’re welcome.”

“Why?” Izumi bluntly asks again, annoyed enough now that his stare swivels directly to Arashi. Maybe if he thinks about it hard enough and long enough, he can rearrange some of this fruitcake’s organs. He’s never tried, but maybe… “You’ve made it clear you think I’m an idiot. Why waste your time helping me at all if that’s what you think of me?” 

Arashi levels an even, amused stare right at him. “Because you’re going to need men you can trust when you’re Captain of the Kingsguard, of course.”

Izumi has long made an art of not immediately reacting when he’s accused of any given thing, but something like this…it makes his heart pound, and he feels his face go pale. “And suddenly, you have high hopes for me,” he curtly says instead, a heel to Vale’s side making him lengthen his stride ahead of Arashi’s mare. “Interesting.” 

“You got angry when I called you stupid, but you obviously assume I’m the same,” Arashi sing-songs, nudging Neigh to shift her stride, easily keeping up. “Why else would you turn down everyone who wanted you as a squire, with you as the Prince’s close friend? It’s a dangerous game, with the King so young and hale, but someone’s always got to bet the long odds.”

“You’ve been paying too much attention to me and I don’t like that. It’s creepy. _You’re_ creepy.” 

Arashi lets out a peal of laughter. “Are you kidding? I just asked all my little spies to bring me back all the news of the prettiest boys in court every time I’m away. That’s my whole briefing on you, that you’re lovely but so far up His Highness’s arse that you blink and he moves his jaw.”

Izumi almost relaxes at that. _Almost._ “No wonder you know so much about me, then,” he deadpans. “I’m the only pretty one there.” _Except for Leo,_ but that needn’t be said.

“Ah, now I _know_ you’re too focused. Otherwise you’d have seen young Alan from the smithy, and Lord Ekiri’s son, and there’s the baker’s boy Rin, and Earl Rangel cuts a dashing figure, and...I could go on, but I’m not just here to list beauties.”

“Yeah, pass. You have bad taste.” Demonstrably, across the board, except for himself, which is making Izumi question his own looks suddenly. _No, what the hell, don’t be that kind of vain._

Arashi sighs, moving on to another strand of Neigh’s hair to braid. “A girl likes to look at boys who look like they could break her in half, doesn’t she? Don’t blame my maiden heart for having _appetites_ , it’s not like I’m, I don’t know, bedding half the girls in the palace to prove my masculinity.”

Izumi groans, his head tilting backwards. “Oh, god, you’re one of _those_. First of all—cut it out. Second of all—I’m not out to prove anything. I fuck women because of a very specific reason.” 

“Yes, and it’s obvious,” Arashi says serenely. “But I was being kind and not talking about it. Anyway, Sir Future Captain, can you actually use that sword, or are you only a brawler?”

“Does that mean I’m being kind and not talking about how the only men that ride a mare to battle are those that need to cover their glaring mistakes?” Izumi sharply retorts, then fumes for a minute before snapping out, unable to stop himself, “It’s because they’re _cleaner_ , you bastard, and you know I’m right, men are disgusting nine times out of ten and I’m not touching someone that doesn’t have the decency to take a bath at least every other day!”

Arashi leans forward, making a show of covering Neigh’s ears for a moment in mock-horror. “Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” he instructs, stroking her lovely mane. “He just doesn’t understand, because he’s never been over the Sharps. The Inglings, my darling boy, only ride stallions.” His eyes sharpen, and he leans back, thumbing the hilt of his blade, looking up at the steep mountain outlines. He nods at them, then points. “My holdings are right in there. Ten thousand hectares, given to me by His Majesty after I’d been a blooded knight for less than a year, because of what me and my warhorses did on the other side. So if you want to learn something, pay attention when we get over the Sharps. If you already know everything, feel free to stay behind at my estates where it’s safe.”

Izumi’s teeth set into a grind again. _You say that like I couldn’t do any of it,_ he wants to snarl out, but it’s moot, because _he’s_ the one that chose to stay back and refuse every chance to go out and do what Arashi has been doing. Not that it isn’t worth it, but—“There’s not a single thing I can learn from you about a sword,” he finally, quietly says, and adds, swallowing down his pride, no matter how _sick of it_ he is, “but I’ll be paying attention in everything else.” He pauses, and flatly adds, “Talk to me like I’m a child again, though, and I’ll take your head and your land by myself.” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Arashi lets out a sigh, urging Neigh forward. “I have no doubt I’ll do it again, and you’ll try, and I’ll have to be awfully cruel to teach you your place. You have quite a reputation for dueling, but this is the Border. We’ll see how much you love standing on your own when a cadre of Inglings decides you smell like breakfast. Just one thing.” 

He squeezes his thighs, and Neigh surges suddenly ahead, blocking Izumi’s way, and Arashi’s face settles into steel. “If you disobey my orders, or the orders of any of your commanding officers when you’re in the field? I’ll take responsibility for your insubordination myself. I won’t enjoy it. But I’ve had to do it before. You don’t know what breaking ranks like that does to the morale of soldiers, because you aren’t one yet. You’re a brat, and a prodigy, and a fancy heir to a not-fancy estate, and the prince’s pretty friend, but you’re not a soldier, not until I say you are. And if you leave my men in a bad state because of your selfishness, you’ll never be Captain of a latrine cleaning group, because I’ll hunt you, and I’ll kill you.”

“I’m not that kind of man. For the last time, I’m not stupid.” Izumi yanks Vale to a stop, and the resultant tossing of Vale’s head, the irritated, frustrated half-rear he gives speaks to his own foul mood. “I’ll follow your orders. I won’t make a fool out of my prince by assuming I know everything a soldier does. But I’m not going to lick your boots just because you think I need to be ‘put in my place’, and that’s all I have to say about that.” His mouth turns down into a darker scowl, and he spurs Vale forward and around Arashi. “I want to hurry up and get where we’re going, my horse is in a bad mood.” 

“Sour knights make sour beasts,” Arashi recites, easily steering Neigh into a walk next to Izumi. “Oh, that’s right, you aren’t a knight. Well, let’s see if an old page on his very scary gelding can keep up with a fool like me on a sad little mare. See you at the Sharps!” 

With that, he leaps forward, still in sidesaddle, launching Neigh into a gallop, which she hits at a dead run, surefooted as a mountain goat, barreling down the road at top speed.

Vale lurches forward, obviously wanting to follow at a speed that would put the stupid, frilly mare through her paces—but Izumi reins him in with gritted teeth, uninterested in a contest that’s ultimately going to cost him more in the long run. A fully lame horse is the last thing he needs. “Fuck you,” Izumi exhales underneath his breath, letting Vale jump into a canter and nothing more. 

When he does eventually catch up, it’s less because of his own speed, and far more because of Arashi’s lack of it. Wordlessly, Izumi pulls his horse up, and wavers between doing something about Vale’s lameness sooner rather than later. Arashi has too keen an eye to swallow down the bullshit of a poultice slathered over his horse’s leg doing a damned thing, let alone so suddenly.

“That beast is dangerous! Throwing himself out of his stall like that, he should be run through—“

_“Or_ you _should be,” Izumi spits, clinging to Vale’s halter with one hand, and the halter of the pretty mare that had started all of this by being the first choice of this ‘knight’ in the other. Her nose is bloody, courtesy of a whip taken across it, and Vale is still unruly, jerking against his hold, balanced precariously on a leg that’s bleeding from the scuffle, caused either by the so-called knight or the other horse—it’s anyone’s guess._

_I should’ve broken that knight’s legs instead of punching him in the face, just to be sure. Even his own care hadn’t completely erased the damage—he wasn’t fast enough, there were too many people around that could have seen, how could he have been any faster than he was?—and that’s stressful to realize. Izumi doesn’t bother making an excuse for his lateness, and instead asks, “How much further?”_

Arashi gives Neigh’s sweaty neck a pat, rubbing it gently. “There’s a good girl, you got to show the big strong boy your arse for a while, yes, I know you’re happy.” 

He points at a gap in the trees, no more than a few kilometers ahead at the longest. “You see that gap? That’s the gate. I had them hide the outer gate, so it gives us the chance to sneak up on any enemies and cut off their escape. Ah, Northern estates don’t have traps and such set up, do they? Must be nice, to have a peaceable area.”

“It’s nice enough.” Boring is another word for it, but most importantly, _safe_ is the best one of all. _Not too much further_ , Izumi thinks, relieved, and leans down to smooth Vale’s mane back into place. “Do Inglings have wizards?” he asks absently. “Or something like it?” 

“Hmm, not exactly. They have...well, I don’t know what they call them, but we call them Berserkers.” Despite Arashi’s tough talk, a chill goes through him at the mention of those creatures. “They used to be Inglings. They do some magic thing, then turn into this hulking monster for a minute. They’re...not fun. The best our wizards have been able to do is identify them before they turn, so the archers can try to pick them off. But I only have two wizards and ten archers in my company this time.”

“Mm. Good to know.” Izumi nudges Vale forward, truly feeling the falter in his gait now, and he grimaces, leaning forward to rub his shoulder. “Yeah, I know, I’m sorry,” he mutters aloud this time, then says, more loudly, “Sic me on one of them at some point. We can find out if a good swordsman can kill them.”

“Aww. That’s cute.” Arashi brushes his hair back behind his ear, then rolls his shoulder, still feeling that old ache where his scars are. “Just because they scare the shit out of me doesn’t mean I haven’t killed any of them. I’ve helped to bring down two. One of them killed Neigh’s sister.” 

Both experiences had been nightmares, and had given him nightmares for months afterwards, full of blood and horror. “Going up against those alone? That’s not just stupid. That’s suicide for no reason. It’s like going up against a volcano.”

“Good. Sounds fun.” Izumi says nothing more about it, settling moodily into dark thoughts. Going up against a volcano sounds delightful right now—like he’s actually doing something rather than spinning his wheels aimlessly. _Maybe I should have just kidnapped Leo and been done with this waiting game._ “Lead the way, sir, my horse has been lame this whole ride and I’d like to see to him, thank you.” 

“You’re far more polite when it comes to your horse,” Arashi notes. “And it was a horse whose defense you came to, isn’t it? You’ve got a way with them, I like that. We can walk them, if you want. It’s only a few minutes from here to the last outpost, we’ll spend the night there.”

“He doesn’t deserve to suffer just because his master’s bitter,” Izumi mutters, sliding off of Vale’s back, and sighing at the following huff of relief that leaves his horse’s nose. “I know, I’m fat, sorry,” he grumbles, pulling on Vale’s forelock before he crouches down, running his fingers gently over the noticeably swollen hock. At least that touch is enough to soothe it somewhat, judging by Vale’s surprised stomp, and Izumi ignores the throb of an immediate headache as he straightens once more. “The higher we get in these mountains, the more my nose dries up, at least,” he sniffs. 

Arashi wrinkles his nose, then slides off his own horse, taking her gently by the bridle. It’s bad manners to sit when someone else is standing, after all, and he’s as surefooted as Neigh in the dim light. “The outpost is our foothills base,” he explains. “About a tenth of my men are stationed there. See that pass in the hills over there? Some of the Inglings have tried coming through that way to cut off our advance before. Once, just a hundred of my men stopped a force of three times as many Inglings with only tithe casualties.” His voice is incredibly proud, shoulders square, head held high.

_You can stop bragging at any point now. I get it already, you’re very good at your job._ Izumi bites down onto his tongue, hard, and starts leading Vale along. “Impressive,” he says instead, trying not to sound weary. Where’s Leo’s soft bed right about now? Ugh, he hates _traveling_. 

I’m going to get you to smile at some point if it’s the last thing I do, Arashi vows to himself. But first I’m going to turn you into a soldier.

_As promised, after a few minutes they reach the outer gate. Arashi holds out a hand, on his guard as he always is outside at night, and lets out a low lilting whistle, like the call of the nightingale._

A moment later, one returns, a sharp staccato burst. Arashi’s face darkens, and he pulls the sidesaddle pad off of Neigh, swinging back up with hardly a noise. “Stay here,” he warns, almost silent, hand falling to the hilt of his blade. “Watch my back.”

Izumi hesitates, gripping Vale’s reins harder before hauling himself back onto the horse’s back, annoyed that he even has to. Being on the back of a lame horse is better than being on the ground, if even Arashi is on guard. He’s unproven, not stupid. 

He drapes Vale’s reins over the front of his saddle, pulling him to a complete stop, and waits, hand curled near his own blade, eyes trained on Arashi. _Pick a different night for something stupid,_ he darkly requests of the universe. _I could be kissing a prince right now instead._

Neigh shows her truest talent when Arashi rides forward, and at a whispered command, her hooves are nearly silent, picking her way delicatedly on the softest patches of ground. Golden hair disappears in the dim light. 

A few minutes later, the silence suddenly breaks with an almighty screech wrenched out of an inhuman mouth. Wings flare, large enough that they would have blotted out the sun if it weren’t night, only visible when a great swath of stars goes suddenly inky black. Someone shouts an order, and a flight of arrows takes flight with a dozen whistles, followed by a second flight less than ten seconds later, then a third. Then they fall silent. Another order comes, and another three flights, this time ending in another screech, this one agonized. Moments later, the enormous wingbeats fade, trees losing their rustle as the beast disappears over the Sharps.

Minutes later, Arashi rides back, face tense and set in grim determination. “Sorry, not much of a warm welcome,” he sighs, and tosses over a black feather the length of his entire outstretched arm. “Welcome to the Borderlands, pretty page. At least we’ve got baths.”


	4. Chapter 4

“The wizard wants you.”

The words are not exactly happy in Arashi’s mouth, and it twists to say them as he rides up next to Izumi. He wears his full uniform today, though not full armor, brushed out and shining in the morning light. His hair is tied back in a warrior’s tail, and he sits astride Neigh, no sign of his sidesaddle pad in sight. The cadre of landed knights rides at the front of his column moving westward, Izumi close to the back in some sort of confused deference to both his status as a landed noble and yet an unblooded page. The column remains narrow by necessity as it winds through the Sharps, all eyes focused ahead--except those focused on the sky. But the griffons don’t fly in the daytime, their inky feathers providing no camouflage against the blue sky, so only a few wary archers are posted on skywatch. 

Most of the men in Arashi’s column don’t wear the full uniform of the realm, with their commander’s permission. Most wear loose, comfortable traveling clothes, though those chosen for the outer and front ranks favor lightweight leather armor. The archers wear their bowguards at all times, however, and those stationed in the back with the extra mounts and food stores have opted for the lightest supplies possible, managing the overstuffed wagons necessary for a weeks-long expedition against Inglings. 

And near the center of the column, under a traveling canvas canopy to be protected from all sides and even from above, are the two precious, irreplaceable wizards.

One of them, much to Arashi’s everlasting consternation, has requested Izumi.

“Head to the middle,” he orders with a sigh. There’s no helping it, after all. “The tall one, Shu. You’re his bodyguard now.”

“His what?” Izumi had heard him just fine, but it still doesn’t stop his eyebrows from climbing. Then, to hopefully save himself from getting slapped upside the head courtesy of Arashi not liking the way he responds to anything—“I think you should know, I have absolutely no experience with wizards.” And he doesn’t _particularly_ fancy being near them, for a plethora of reasons that he can’t properly explain to Arashi, of all people. 

“Yes. I figured. And if I had the slightest choice in the matter, you’d never be close to him, because I only see this ending in you offending him and him burning down the entire column.”

Izumi’s stare in return is wary. “And you don’t have a choice in this…why?” 

Arashi lets out a despairing little noise in his throat. “I keep forgetting you don’t know anything at all. You don’t argue with wizards. About anything. If you interfere in their reality, they unravel, and their magic becomes unstable. And Shu is the worst of them all, so just...I don’t know how else to beg you to not be yourself, but if you don’t try, you’ll die too.”

“I’m hearing you, I’m hearing you,” Izumi grouses, fluttering a gloved hand in dismissal. “I’ll make sure not to kill us all.” The one wizard he knew in _his_ lifetime wasn’t like that, but sure, fine, if that’s how they are, he’ll take Arashi’s word for it, more or less, until proven otherwise. 

_May the bridges I burn light the way_ , he mentally deadpans as he heads towards the center, and steers his horse underneath the canopy. How do you even address a wizard? Probably should’ve asked that. Izumi bites down on a sigh, and bows his head in greeting. “You requested me, Milord?” 

There are two of them, and the younger, shorter one has hair that looks like it’s made of those bird-beasts’ feathers, black and tousled and wild in the spill of it down his back and around his face—and he makes a sound like a bird, too, startled and unhappy as he huddles himself being the taller wizard’s back. Shu? That was his name. Izumi cocks his head, the small glimpse he gets of the smaller one’s face and eyes catching his interest more than he wants to admit. _Do his eyes not match?_

“Don’t grab at me, Mika, can’t you see I’m listening? Honestly, I’ll spell your hands to your thighs to keep them off of me if you ruin my robes,” the taller one scolds, hands absently patting at the shorter one’s hair, turning around. No surprise shows on his elegant, aristocratic face as he surveys Izumi, violet eyes swirling, hair a vibrant rose color. He stands quite tall, though some of that height derives from the heeled boots he wears under his robes to keep the hems from touching the ground overmuch. Black and red drape from his shoulders, embossed with golden swirls that seem to circle around the hems and trims like clockwork. 

Finally, after a moment of scrutiny, he folds his arms. “Well? I’ve already approved you on the basis of your beauty. Introduce yourself properly.”

Thank god his good looks are good for something out here, too. Izumi represses the urge to roll his eyes, and he slides off of his horse, uninterested in being rude and blowing up everything (apparently). Except—well—his mouth doesn’t entirely follow suit, so help him. “I thought you would’ve known who I was, considering you asked for me specifically.” 

Mika, the shorter one, glowers at him, attached firmly to Shu’s arm in spite of his previous scolding. Yeah, those eyes definitely don’t match. That’s new. 

Violet eyes wide, then narrow, and long-fingered hands grasp at Mika’s shoulder, clutching firm with nerves. “I don’t like you at _all_ , you’re a brute, I can tell,” Shu declares, trying to belie his anxiety with haughty words. “You’re obviously an imbecile, you know _nothing_ \--Mika, fetch my dolls, I need her--”

Mika bolts away to do as he’s told, shooting a last glare to Izumi with both a gold and blue eye, and Izumi briefly looks skyward through the canopy, resigning himself to a day of ass-kissing or death. “Forgive me—I only assumed, because I’ve always heard how wizards are infinitely knowledgeable.” Add in the tiniest bit of a country accent, and _maybe_ that’s convincing enough. “My name is Izumi; I’m just a page, obviously I know nothing.” 

Slightly mollified, Shu relaxes, letting his shoulders draw back. “Yes, well, just see that you don’t cause too much damage to my delicate harmonies with your vulgar existence. You’re too beautiful to be a soldier, so now you’re my bodyguard. Just stay behind me and you won’t be hurt.”

There are a few things wrong with what Shu is saying, but Izumi focuses on the most glaring. “…Doesn’t ‘bodyguard’ generally imply that I’m supposed to be protecting you?” 

“You really need t’stop talkin’ to my master like that,” Mika wearily pipes up in one of the heaviest, South-country accents Izumi has ever heard, pushing the doll in question into Shu’s arms. 

_It’s an honest question!_ Izumi wants to shriek, and maybe rip his hair out in frustration already. That’s it. He’s decided he dislikes wizards. “I’m not standing behind you. I’m here to protect you, no matter how beautiful you think I am.” 

A flash of hurt shows on Shu’s face, and pink fire blazes, flaring a tree behind him into oblivion, leaving a pillar of smoking ash in his wake when he gasps, smothering the flames with a choked off expletive. He clutches at his doll, a porcelain miniature lady with golden ringlets, wearing her own small wizard’s robes. 

Some nearby horses whicker nervously, side-stepping under their riders. A couple spook outright, the ones who’ve never traveled with wizards before. One of the other bodyguards shifts, whacking the end of his stave into Izumi’s leg with a warning glare, as if he doesn’t dare speak.

Izumi scowls, pulling on Vale’s head when the horse side-eyes Shu for a little too long, gearing up for a mighty bolt sideways. Right. Not arguing about that anymore. A change of tactics, then. “That’s a beautiful doll,” he settles on neutrally instead. Judging by Mika’s shoulders slumping in relief, that’s the right way to go about this. 

Shu’s whole demeanor changes in a heartbeat, and he turns the doll around, presenting her proudly. “Isn’t she? Milady, say hello to the nice young man.”

“Hello, Sir,” the doll says, giggling as she curtsies, turning in her kidskin shoes on the palm of Shu’s hand.

That’s not weird or anything—but Izumi keeps his mouth shut this time, uninterested in watching another tree go up in weirder flames. “A pleasure to meet you, Milady,” he demures, offering the doll a bow fit for the king’s courts. “I’ve never seen a wizard’s talents firsthand like this before.” The king has his wizards, of course, but Izumi’s never paid them any mind; they certainly aren’t young or handsome, for one, and they seem fairly useless in comparison to this one. 

Shu relaxes farther, tucking Milady gently into the crook of his arm, where she blinks adoringly up at him. “Yes, well, few of them are as talented as I am, of course. And those that are within the realm of my capabilities, you’ll certainly never want to meet, ha! So. Tell me your talents. Why did you resonate to my ears, hmm?”

He strides forward, looking Izumi up and down from ever angle, hand moving out to trace the line of his shoulder, then his outseam, then down the center of his chest. “Where are you hiding your genius?”

“Uh—“ Being abruptly touched isn’t Izumi’s favorite, and he seizes up, staring warily up at Shu. “I, uh. I’m afraid I don’t know exactly what you mean by ‘resonate.’ Is touching me necessary?”

“You should feel honored,” Mika tosses over, settled down with a needle and thread now, humming distractedly as he works on what _looks_ like some stuffed child’s toy, albeit half a dozen times creepier, with mismatched parts and eyes. 

“Right. I’m honored. But please remember I’m a page that knows nothing.” 

“You,” Shu snarls suddenly, eyes flaring with unnatural light, an aura of visible heat rising around him, “will keep a respectful tongue in your head, and a respectful tone--do you think I’m deaf? Do you think I’m an _imbecile?_ You think my mind is broken, don’t you? Don’t you? Whoever told you that is a _liar_ , they sent me this beautiful bait as a trap to draw out my madness, didn’t they? It was that idiot who calls himself a ‘king,’ isn’t it? Did he put you up to it? _Did he??_ ”

“Not in the slightest,” Izumi hastily says, and unthinkingly, he reaches out, grabbing Shu by the arm. “I think he’s an idiot, too. I can’t stand the king and I can’t wait until him and his stupid wife are dead.” Treason, to anyone else that hears it, but hopefully, anyone that overhears will just think he’s placating a crazy wizard. “You can hear I’m not lying, can’t you?” 

Shu’s eyes go wider still, then fade to normal, the aura of menace around him disappearing in a second as he laughs. “Ha! Of course I can, I’m one of the greatest wizards who’s ever lived. This is why I will tolerate you, yes, yes! You!” he barks abruptly towards another bodyguard, the only other one under the shaded awning. “Fetch us food and drink immediately, are we expected to starve? If there are no fresh honey rolls, just throw mine to the dogs, the slop you people eat will destroy my magic.”

Izumi heaves a sigh of relief, releasing Shu’s arm. Watching the bodyguard skitter away makes relief spread through his limbs as well, and he rakes his bangs out of his face. “Finally, someone else around here that thinks the king is full of shit,” he mutters. “What has he done to you, if I might ask? I like adding to my lists of reasons to be done with him entirely.” 

“He thinks he’s better than I am,” Shu says with a sniff, settling onto his high-backed chair. It’s uncomfortable, but he likes that, and he settles Milady onto her perch by his chair’s side. “So immediately he’s the worst. But also he’s a poor king. You’ll learn that, if you spend enough time out here on the Border. He and his predecessors--the father, the grandfather--they’ve been conceding ground to the Inglings in hopes of peace for decades, until that vulgar Captain put a stop to the bleeding on the Western border. Mika, I’m going to be talking about things that panic you, go seek out your Captain for company.”

Mika hesitates, sparing a wary, suspicious glance between Shu and Izumi before he snatches up his basket of sewing supplies and the stuffed creature (it’s not really an animal, Izumi is pretty sure) that he’s working on. “If you upset my master again, I’ll break your legs, even if y’have a pretty horse,” he lowly threatens Izumi before pulling his cloak around himself and trotting off, head down. 

“Noted,” Izumi calls after him, bemused. “He’s friendly with Sir Arashi? I’m surprised.” 

“Yes, the Captain is quite fortunate to have my Mika’s favors,” Shu says, and waves a hand, eyes darting sideways to make certain that Mika’s bodyguard is following, ears pricked to listen for the sounds of Mika’s chords. They don’t really fade from his hearing, no matter how far apart they are. That is why Mika is superior to others, of course. “Well. You. Tell me your secret, why do I like you?”

Izumi shrugs, and steals the chair Mika had previously been curled up into, flopping down into it and adjusting his sword at his side. Vale relaxes as much as he does, putting his head down to nibble on the bits of grass underfoot, and Izumi lets him. One of them might as well get fat in the cold. “Because I hate the king, too?” he hazards. “I’ve always thought he was piss poor at his job, it’s good to hear someone else agrees.” 

“Yes, yes, he’s getting all of his subjects killed to keep taking bribes of peace from the Inglings,” Shu says dismissively. “That’s not it. I’m only drawn to those with talent. Those other bodyguards out there? One has the eyes of a hawk, a champion archer. The other is the fastest runner in half the realm, next to the Captain. So. Why am I drawn to you, why do you resonate with me?”

“…You won’t meet a better swordsman.” It’s frustrating not to be as forthright with his bragging out here, but Arashi has made him wary in the first week. Feeling less that perfect sets his teeth on edge, but at least in this, Izumi _knows_ he’s the best. “On or off horseback. I’ve never lost a duel.” 

Mollified, Shu sits back, arranging Milady’s robes. “That may be it, I suppose. How many men have you killed? You look far too delicate to have such experience, but I suppose that would be to your advantage, yes?”

“Some.” It bothers some people that he doesn’t keep track, but Izumi doesn’t have time for it. “I don’t like keeping track of people that I think deserve to die, sorry.” He shrugs, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “If it’s a duel, though, I don’t go out of my way to kill them. It’s funnier that way.” 

Shu’s mouth sets in a disapproving line. “I dislike those that kill indiscriminately. It’s distasteful, don’t you think? You’ll improve, or I’ll dismiss you, so that’s fine. So. Why do _you_ dislike the king, if you truly are a page who knows nothing of the world from some backwater country estate?”

“Because if you come from a backwater country estate to the Capitol, you can see pretty clearly what the king spends his money and time on, and it’s not for anything that people actually need. Also, he’s a shitty father.” Izumi’s lips purse, and because he can’t _stand it_ when people assume the wrong thing about him, he has to keep going. “I don’t kill indiscriminately. I just don’t keep track of the trash that I think deserves to die, there’s a difference. Meat traders that slaughter horses for a quick buck, for example. They can fuck right off.” 

“Ahh, so you’re an activist, I see. Well, that’s a way to be, I suppose, and I do like it when people believe in things.” 

“Milord, forgive the interruption,” the other bodyguard says quietly, after waiting for a break in the sentences. He ducks inside, bowing at the entrance, avoiding eye contact with everyone, and sets out two trays of food--one, Izumi’s full of sliced meat and local fruits; the other, Shu’s, set with five honey rolls and a carafe of cold water. Shu doesn’t acknowledge the interruption, merely reaching for a roll as the man ducks out of the tent again. He nibbles on the edge, testing the freshness, then sighs in relief and starts to eat.

“Excellent, they’ve scheduled the bakers in regards to my digestive cycle, as I recommended.”

“…You’ve got him absolutely trained,” Izumi notes with a snort of amusement, leaning forward to select a piece of fruit and nibble gingerly on it. Being a picky eater never works well with traveling, unfortunately, but he’d rather starve than eat something he can’t stand. “Do you mind if I ask a few questions? I’ve only ever known one other wizard, and we were both children, so I don’t think that counts.” 

If anything, Shu preens under the question, polishing off the first honey roll, then picking up the next one. “It’s only natural that someone like you would be fascinated with my greatness, of course--it was inevitable as the tides, ha ha! I’ll give you the benefit of my incredible expertise, because you begged so kindly. Ask your questions!”

Rocky start aside, Izumi is starting to think Arashi is full of shit. Shu really isn’t _that_ hard to deal with, if you’ve got any sense at all. “What does it mean when you ‘resonate’ with someone, exactly?” he presses. “Do I stick out to you that much?” He’s not sure if he wants the answer to be ‘yes’ or ‘no’; spending his whole life trying not to stick out _too much_ hasn’t gone that well for him. 

Shu’s mouth parts, impressed with the intelligence of the question. “Well, that was a good question, so I won’t give you a common answer for the ignorant. True magic manifests in every wizard in a slightly different way--our powers are nearly identical, but they manifest in our senses differently. Mine are in sound. Everything in the world is music to me--the most complex are chords, the simplest are single notes--pure metals, or filtered water, for example. Every single thing around me, even the air, is making noise all the time. I heard you, and your harmonies are...pleasant. They’re in tune with my own. It doesn’t mean I’ll like you, I don’t like anyone, but it means you’ll bother me much less than others, so I’ve commandeered you.”

Izumi nods slowly. “I understand that about as well as a boring human could, I suppose,” he says wryly, setting down his half-eaten piece of fruit and prodding at another one. Questionable, all of it. He tosses an apple-wannabe over at Vale’s feet, and it’s snatched up almost immediately. “If it helps, you can talk in terms of music, if you ever need to. His Highness, the crowned prince, he’s a musician, so I can follow along. Ahh, that must be annoying, everything always being noisy.” 

“It...is.” A muscle twitches in Shu’s jaw, and his eyes dim slightly. “Ah, you’ve heard the prince’s music? He isn’t exactly terrible, which is my highest praise for someone who isn’t a wizard, so he should be grateful.” He brushes imaginary crumbs off of his chest, then moves on to a third roll. “Other wizards are the most pleasant to be around, but they’re also...too much for me. My hearing--my sensitivity is very high, you understand. Mika’s as well, though he doesn’t hear, he sees, which makes his actual vision somewhat compromised. It’s why we’re not kept in the Capitol. Well, they say there are other reasons, but they’re all monstrously vulgar imbeciles, you know.”

“They are,” Izumi agrees without hesitation. “Is that why his eyes are…the way they are? They’re beautiful, but I’ve never seen anything like that.” _And he kept watching me like he could see things I couldn’t_ , which now, having that explained, makes Izumi feel another level of unnerved. “When I return home, I’ll let the prince know you think he isn’t terrible. He’ll be thrilled.” 

“Don’t you dare, my disapproval keeps him on his toes,” Shu says, mouth twitching slightly in amusement that he’s trying to hide. “Hmm, yes, Mika’s eyes are very special. His mother sold one, you know.”

“She _what?_ What the hell, people do that?” Izumi asks, aghast. “Is there a _market_ for wizard parts or something? Also—I’m fairly certain he had two…?” 

“Well, she was an opportunistic hag, of course, and he was beautiful--he wasn’t a wizard as a _child_ , of course. No, that’s what happens when those with our talents are allowed to live untrained, they become desperate, grasping, disgusting. The man bought the eye and promised to replace it after he plucked it out, but he put a marble in of a wrong color. Then when Mika bloomed into his powers, of course, he changed, but the color is still different. It’s a dreadfully dissonant note,” he muses. “But I don’t hate that about him.”

Izumi shudders in spite of himself, and leans back in his chair. Hearing things like this makes it very, very apparent why his mother had always told him to keep his mouth shut, to not _tell_ anyone anything—and before, it had just been under threat of being _sent away._ “That’s disgusting,” he mutters, appetite entirely lost. “He looks so young, too, what the hell. My mother used to tell me—after the wizard I knew as a child was sent away—that it was done to protect your kind. Sounds like it’s actually true, talking to you.” 

Shu blinks. “It’s done to protect everyone,” he admits. “The older we are, the better at controlling our powers. I--even I, one of the greatest knowers of the unknowable of our age--lose control sometimes, when something is...disharmonious. You saw earlier. Your friend, who was sent away--did anyone die, when he bloomed?”

“Not that I know of. I wasn’t there, but…I saw that he leveled an entire orchard, heh. Then he was gone, and that was years ago.” Izumi shrugs. “I haven’t heard from him since. Do _all_ wizards, uh, bloom, like that? And only when they’re young?” 

“It varies, depending on the person, how they manifest.” Shu hesitates a moment, then raises a hand, snapping a finger. A plume of pink fire flares around his hand, and Shu narrows his eyes, concentrating. Slowly, it starts to resolve from a chaotic flame into a small figure, growing more and more distinct, evolving shape, changing numbers of legs. “My greatest strength is in things like this, creating from nothing. Mika’s is...very different. I had a friend who could riot emotions in men at the sound of his voice, making them weep or rage, whatever he pleased, and another who could turn even a teaspoon of water into a flood. We can all do the usual conceptions, throwing fire around and creating light, things like that, but we each have a talent.”

The form finishes resolving, and settles into a fist-sized figure, a porcelain sculpture that looks exactly like Vale, posed mid-rear with his forehooves in the air, an arrogant charge read clear in his facial expression and the musculature. He hands it over, dropping it into Izumi’s hands. “This is what I love to do.”

“…Holy shit,” Izumi mutters in spite of himself, his eyes wide as he turns the figure around in his hands, hardly believing it’s real even if he saw himself it being made. “That’s…this is incredible. The wizards in the capitol, I’ve never seen them do _anything_ like this. Did you make Milady as well? Vale, come here, look at this, it’s you. No, don’t put your mouth on it, you idiot, it’s not food.” 

The smile spreads across Shu’s mouth fully now, and he sits straighter, immensely pleased with himself. “Yes, it’s wonderful, isn’t it, isn’t it? I knew you had very high taste, I knew you sounded pleasant to the ears, ha ha! Yes, Milady is my finest work, I even managed to give her a bit of action in her limbs. I worked very hard on her in a...very dark hour.”

Izumi pushes his horse’s nose away, stopping him from lipping at the figure a second time. “She’s beautiful,” he says honestly. “It’s very impressive that you can do things like that. How old were you, when you found out that you had these powers? I would’ve never known that my friend was a wizard, before…what happened.” 

“Eleven.” Shu’s smile fades, but doesn’t disappear as nostalgia takes hold. “Old enough to have been apprenticed to another career, though not the one I would have chosen for myself. When I bloomed...well. It always happens violently.” 

His mouth thins, and Milady turns, laying a tiny porcelain hand on his as if to comfort him. “It happens because of strong emotions,” the doll says, speaking up for the first time in quite a while. “Most bloom in dreams, because they’re so strong. Shu bloomed when the woman he loved died.”

“Ah. Sorry to hear that.” It’s still strange to hear the doll talking in a completely different voice, but—whatever, he’s surrounded by strange things now. “That’s a good reason to go mad, I suppose,” Izumi mutters, though it sets an unhappy little blob of dread into his stomach. If anything ever happened to Leo, will he end up like this? He’s too old already, isn’t he? It doesn’t make sense, and magic is supposed to make _some_ sense, isn’t it? “Sorry, we probably shouldn’t talk about things like that, it’s a recipe for a bad mood.” 

Shu flutters his other hand, and Milady settles back, returning to her docile, empty-eyed stare. “It’s fine,” Shu says airily. “I’ve given you permission. Ah, it sounds as if they’re turning in for the night. Excellent, that means I’m not needed.”

He lifts the carafe of liquid, then pours two amber-colored glasses, raising one. “Drink with me.”

“…Is it safe for wizards to get drunk?” Izumi wryly asks, but he doesn’t refuse, reaching over to lift his glass. “If not, don’t light my horse on fire, that’s all I ask.” 

“Every wizard is different, don’t make me repeat myself unnecessarily,” Shu says with a sigh, and takes a long drink. “For me, it dulls my emotions, so it’s actually safer for me to be drunk, but I don’t spend all my time that way anymore.”

“Sounds bad,” Izumi says, leaning back and taking a long drink himself. That’s _strong_ , he can tell from one mouthful, and he drinks faster. _Screw you, Arashi, I bet you didn’t think I’d be getting friendly and drunk with a wizard, did you?_ “So,” he begins, crossing his legs, “can I ask a question about something else? About the Berserkers, the Captain was talking to me about them.” 

A visible shudder goes through Shu, and he takes a second drink to steady his nerves. “You’ll be seeing them soon enough, you may as well ask your questions now.”

“How deadly are they, really? Do they always kill in one blow?” 

Shu purses his lips, turning over his answer in his mind before he speaks. “You’re asking the wrong question, which means you’re thinking about them wrong,” he says at last. “Which means you’re a fool, but you shouldn’t have to die for that. A skilled swordsman will kill you in one blow. A berserker is more like a building falling on part of the army. Not all of them die in one blow. A berserker might kill twenty men in one minute, and cripple or maim a dozen more.”

“I’m asking that particular question because _I_ want to fight one. Just me.” None of this ‘I helped take one down’ nonsense that Arashi has told him. Izumi takes another drink, then sets his empty glass down. “So if it’s just me, do you think it would kill me instantly? Ahh, I understand what you’re saying, too, but…” 

“Hmm. Well, you won’t understand if I don’t show you, so pay attention before I get too drunk to work magic.”

Shu sets down his glass, then clears some of the dishes off the table, blooming a sudden pink fire in the spot in front of him. Slowly, it changes, though it doesn’t resolve as firmly as the little horse had. The figure remains made of fire, and looks like a man, with spiked short hair and too-long arms. “An Ingling. About the same size as a regular human. Just before they change...”

The man curls in on himself, dropping down into a ball. “We don’t know what they do. But we can mark them--I can hear them, Mika can see them--and if the archers can pick them out at this point, they’re dead. If not...”

The figure warps, then grows, elongating first upwards in a grotesque fashion, bones popping under skin, every detail rendered by Shu’s magic, even as his face grows green. It roars silently, because Shu doesn’t give it sound, and swells to a massive height, easily four times the size of a human, with arms that drag the ground and a huge distended jaw that drops as low as his chest, with massive arced teeth and tusks. “They’re fast. One could reach the palace from here in ten minutes, I’d guess. The one advantage we have is that they don’t seem to think when they change, so they never use weapons. The death toll would be massively higher if they did.”

Izumi’s eyes lid, and he reaches for the carafe, topping off Shu’s glass before filling his own again. “So they’re a challenge. I know that sounds arrogant, before you scold me,” he hastily adds, holding up a hand before Shu can brush him off like Arashi has again and again. “But I’m not here to just become a soldier. I want…if I can’t be the strongest, fastest, deadliest knight, then I’m no one.” Another drink, and he can already feel his head buzzing. Good. “If becoming known for killing those things single-handedly does the trick, then I’ll do it. Those teeth look like they hurt though, ugh…” 

Shu closes his fist, and the fire disappears, leaving behind a faint whiff of rose petals, for some reason. “I understand wanting to make a name for yourself. I’ll warn you, though, I won’t leave you one alive just so you can prove a point. You’ll have to get yourself near one by yourself.”

“I understand. It’s not like I want anyone else to die. Mm, can you do me one favor, though? If we’re mostly alone or something, point it out to me first?” Izumi downs his second glass too-quickly, and he flops sideways in his chair. “I won’t fuck it up. I’m _really_ good.” 

“How good?” Shu asks, curious. “How do you know you’re good if you’re not even a knight?”

“Just because I’m not a knight means nothing,” Izumi grumpily retorts. “I’ve dueled every knight worth his title in the Capitol and won. I’ve knocked every sparring partner the Captain’s thrown at me here flat on his ass. It isn’t as if I haven’t been offered positions, but I turn them down!” 

“Have you dueled the Captain?”

“He won’t, the bastard. I’d win, that’s why he won’t.”

Shu snorts, and throws back the rest of his glass. Izumi sounds confident, but he’s seen many knights that sounded confident drinking in a tent that have pissed themselves on the battlefield later. Time will tell. Hopefully, it will tell in a way that doesn’t kill this man, who harmonizes well with Shu’s own melody. 

“How about the rest? Can you shoot, can you use an axe, shield, morningstar? Or is it just the sword you’re good at?”

“I can do anything, but I’m best with a sword. I’ve been better than my instructors since I could walk, that’s why I got sent to the Capitol.” Izumi slumps down to plop his chin in one hand, sighing. “The Captain’s an asshole,” he moodily diverts. “Pisses me off, because he’s very attractive. So annoying.” 

“You’re far lovelier,” Shu says, almost offended at the idea that anyone would think that Arashi is more beautiful than Izumi. “Oh. Not that I care at all, but don’t say anything against the Captain when Mika is around. That’s more a warning than a threat, he gets very upset and isn’t as good at controlling it as I am.”

Izumi flaps a hand. “I won’t say anything. He reminds me of a bird. Mika does. Fluttery, can’t trust that kind of thing, so I won’t say anything. The Captain—he’s handsome, I’m beautiful, that’s the difference. You’re beautiful, too, d’you have a lover?” 

Shu’s lips twitch, thinning into a line. “You’ve never known a wizard, have you?”

“No.” Izumi’s eyebrows raise. “Are you not allowed to have lovers or something?” 

“Of course not. We’re property of the crown. For our own safety, of course.” Shu’s eyebrow twitches. “Policy of the king’s father.”

“Oh. That’s stupid.” Izumi rolls his eyes. “When Leo—sorry, when the prince becomes king, I’ll make him repeal that. What’s the point of living if you can’t enjoy sex, honestly. You should just do it anyway, it’s not like he can stop you, the king’s all the way in the Capitol and you’re here.”

Shu cocks his head. “Would you do what you pleased, to please yourself, if you knew it wouldn’t be you that suffered for it, but the one you held most dearly?” he asks softly. “Trifling with crown property is a crime. Being crown property is not. You understand?”

“…that’s really fucking stupid,” Izumi bluntly repeats. “You’re human, aren’t you? Being a fancy, glorified slave—fuck that. All of this, I’m making Leo fix it up.” He pauses, turning over options in his alcohol-muddled mind. “So then—two wizards, that’s still a no-go, for some reason? I thought maybe you and the bird boy…” 

“Shut your mouth.” The words aren’t angry, but more nervous, accompanied with a swift shake of Shu’s head, eyes darting around. “The king has ears everywhere, and I can’t drown them all out,” he says, far more quietly, far more quickly. “Even the suspicion--I can’t lose him too.” And to change the subject as quickly as possible, he adds, “The prince is thinking of you right now.”

Izumi’s drunk enough to keep pressing it, but he’s also drunk enough to be easily distracted, especially at any and all mentions of Leo. “Heeh, is he?” he prods, contemplating a third glass of drink, then deciding against it, and sets his own down so that he’s not tempted. “Can you tell what he’s thinking about? Ahh, he’s going to be a good king,” he affectionately says, eyes lidding. “That’s why all of this is worth it, even if it takes another twenty years for his idiot father to die.” 

Shu’s lip curls, and he shoves away his own cup, along with the temptation to create himself a fire-clad representation of the one he wants so desperately to see. It won’t help. It never does. “With my luck, it will be far longer,” he says moodily. “His father lived to ninety, and the king’s just thirty-nine.”

“If he lives too long, I’ll kill him myself. I don’t know how someone so perfect can come from that man’s seed,” Izumi grouses, reaching back to pull his ponytail over his shoulder. “So are they good thoughts, or is he annoyed at me for leaving, or…”

“I don’t read minds, you know. All I know is that they’re warm thoughts, so I doubt it’s anything unhappy.” Shu brushes the hair back from his face, eyes slightly unfocused with the strong liquor. “I shouldn’t have told you that much. But I’ve spied on the one who left me behind too, so I suppose I have some sympathy.”

“Tell me about him.” Because he can’t _help_ but be curious. What kind of lover could someone like Shu have snuck around with in the past? “Or her. I don’t know what you like, but you act like you’ve got taste so I’m assuming it was a man.” Maybe he’s too drunk for this conversation, actually. Vale snorts out a breath nearby, more or less agreeing. 

Shu hesitates, then grabs his glass, Izumi’s glass, and suddenly both of them are enveloped in pink fire. He places each of them at one end of the table, then leans in, satisfied that they’re not being heard. “Two,” he says with a sigh, leaning onto his palm. “The one I wanted and the one who wanted me. They were both...so beautiful. Like mirror opposites. Look.” 

He gives in, opening his palms, creating two small figures--one, golden and tiny, wearing a lady’s ruffled dress. The other, tall and dark-haired with crimson eyes that burn even among the rest of the flames, wearing a wizard’s dark robes. “My tale is a tragedy, you know,” he says, more than a little drunk, sounding very confidential.

“They’re both very beautiful,” Izumi agrees, and he reaches over, giving Shu’s head a sympathetic pat. “You don’t have to tell it if it’s gonna make you upset. I was just curious. I like romance. Hey, I’ll fuck up anyone that tries to bother you and your doll, seriously.” Maybe there’s something to that whole ‘resonating’ nonsense after all. Or maybe he’s just drunk. 

Shu grabs Izumi’s hand, violet eyes turning wet as he squeezes. “I’ll protect you,” he says seriously. “If you fall in front of the berserker, I don’t care what the King says, I’ll save you. You’re beautiful in a very noisy world.”

“I’m not gonna fall. But thank you.” Izumi’s vision swims a little, a reminder that he hasn’t eaten much and now he’s had more than enough to drink. He doesn’t care. He drops his other hand over Shu’s, squeezing it with both. “I _won’t_ die,” he lowly says, the words basically a promise. “I can’t. I’m…a little like you, I think.” 

“You _are_ beautiful, and I am too,” Shu agrees, vision swimming slightly. When it resolves again, he sees what Izumi had meant--it’s always easier, when someone isn’t holding a secret so tightly. “Oh. Oh, you...”

He frowns, and draws back slightly, though he doesn’t release Izumi’s hand. “What are you?”

“A stupid page. Sorry. Reflex. Captain’s fault.” Izumi blinks back at him, his head tilting. “What do you mean? I’m human. I don’t know anything else—I…” He hesitates, glancing around, as if double checking that no one’s lurking near them is better than any of Shu’s magical preventatives. “My mother used to warn me, when I was little, not to say anything,” he murmurs. “Or they’d send me away. But I don’t think I’m a wizard…or something would’ve happened by now. Right? I’m eighteen already.”

Shu nods urgently, intellectual curiosity burning in his eyes. “What is it, then? Ah, not to be indelicate, but are you sure you know your father?”

“No. I don’t. At all.” Izumi’s gaze darkens. “I’m a bastard. My mother…I know she’s human. But I can…fix things. Heal things, I mean. Like—here.”

He pulls back, reaching down and fumbling into his boot for the spare knife he keeps there, and flicks it open. In short order, Izumi draws it across his palm, not even flinching as he does, even though it’s an obviously deep cut. Almost immediately, however, a bit of focus—no matter how tipsy he feels—it starts to close up, leaving only the coagulating blood behind. “Every swordplay instructor I’ve ever had has told me I’m too fearless and I’m going to die because of it, no matter how good I am,” Izumi softly says, glancing up through the pale of his lashes to catch Shu’s gaze. “But I don’t think so.”

Shu stares, and lets out a low hiss under his breath, hating to see the beautiful skin marred as much as he’s entranced by watching it heal. “How bad a wound have you taken?” he asks, his intellectual curiosity overtaking him, even when he’s three sheets to the wind. “How much concentration does the process take? Is it transferable? Do you run out of energy--is there a trade-off? Can you do anything else related, like heal a sickness, or change your appearance or age?”

“That’s a lot of questions at once and I’m drunk, hold on,” Izumi complains, holding up a hand as he sags backward. “Okay. One by one. The worst I’ve ever taken was a gut wound in a duel, went straight through, and I could tell it was bad, you know? Through the intestines or something terrible. I started healing it during the fight and I was fine, though. Just sore for a few days. If it’s me I’m healing, it’s…second nature, I guess? I don’t really have to think about it. But I can heal other people, and that takes a lot more effort. I get headaches, or I’m really dizzy afterwards if it’s something bigger, but I’m usually fine if I eat something.” He pulls the tie out of his hair, suddenly annoyed by its existence. “I’ve only ever done something major on another person once, though, and I was young. It’s gotten easier and easier as I get older. Ah…what else…” 

Izumi starts to count off from his own mental list. “It’s less effective on old wounds. And ‘old’ can mean an hour old or a month old or…whatever. Sickness seems unaffected, I can’t get rid of my own colds. I can’t change my appearance or age, I don’t think? I don’t even know how I’d…go about that. I’ve never tested it on poison, so I don’t know about that. Does this sound like _anything_ you’ve ever heard of? I’ve…I’ve never been able to find anything, and I consider myself well-read.” Heswallows. “The prince has never been able to find anything either.” 

Shu’s eyes dart about, thinking, analyzing, trying to remember anything he’s ever read. “I,” he says finally, “would consider it the greatest vote of confidence and friendship if you would allow me to find out what you are. I’ll do it no matter what, of course, I’m _dreadfully_ curious to the point of wanting to die, but I’ve always adored scholarly puzzles. The prince, however much I may respect him personally, is not my intellectual equal.”

“He pays attention to what he wants to pay attention to.” Izumi gnaws on his lower lip before he tucks his knife away again. “You can try, if you want. If it’s something terrible, though—do me a favor and don’t tell me. Oh. If it makes a difference,” he adds, pulling on strand of his hair, “my mother’s a brunette. So is everyone else in her line. This hair isn’t hers.” 

Shu nods, mind racing. “Excellent, excellent. You’re from the North, aren’t you? I haven’t been there much--we went back to the West so I could deal with...some things, but I haven’t gone up there. Hmm...has your mother ever told you anything at all, even a hint?”

“She doesn’t speak of it. All I know is from one of her sisters—my mother was barren, and then some rogue came and raped her in the night, and…” Izumi flutters a hand. “I was born.” 

“That’s good information, though. Hmm...” Shu shakes his head, blinking bleary eyes. “Interesting. I’ll think about this later. For now, take your clothes off, I want to look at something beautiful.”

“You just want to look, though, that’s the worst,” Izumi complains, but he’s already in the process of undoing the lacings of his shirt. Who cares, if he’s going to be praised for being lovely by an all-powerful wizard. “I’ll never bed anyone out here at this rate.” 

“Don’t ruin this with complaining,” Shu orders, eyes tracing every line of Izumi’s body. “Ahh. Very nice. Very good. I want to get the lines right if I ever look at you while you’re not here. Do you wash your penis often?”

“Are you going to make a doll out of me?” Izumi asks, laughing in spite of himself, and he pulls his shirt off, tossing it over the back of his chair. “What kind of question is that, of _course_ I do, I bathe daily. I can’t stand being unclean. Ah, hold on, these boots take a minute even when I’m not drunk.” 

Shu lets his hands drop to his lap, folding them to keep them still. “Apologies in advance,” he murmurs, face flushed. “When I see men that are so lovely I want to touch them, particularly their legs.”

“You can touch them, if you want,” Izumi breezily says, sitting sideways in the chair and draping his legs over one arm of it as he unlaces his boots one at a time, dropping them to the ground. “Is it against the law if you touch me? Like, if I’m not doing anything, that’s not tampering with anything, right? I have nice legs. I’m a better dancer than _anyone_ at court.” 

There’s a rustling outside of the canopy, and Izumi fumbles for his sword, already in the process of drawing it no matter if he’s shirtless and barefoot and still seated by the time Mika pokes his head in, mismatched eyes glowing with the flickering light of his lantern. “See, Arashi,” he softly says over his shoulder, his head tilting. “Nothin’ blew up. Master, you’ve had a lot to drink, huh?” 

“...Some,” Shu admits, moving to take Mika’s hand and hold it. Hands are safe. “Come sit down, I’m watching my new bodyguard undress. Isn’t he beautiful, Mika? You like looking at men.”

“Who doesn’t?” Arashi quips, drawing the canopy shut. He gestures to Izumi, and the armchair. “Don’t let me stop you.”

Mika spares a glance at Izumi, makes a face, and looks away. “He’s scary.” 

“Ouch, snubbed,” Izumi mutters, flopping back down and letting his sword click back into its scabbard. His heart won’t stop pounding in his chest now, but at least he’s drunk enough to not really process much beyond there not being an immediate threat that he has to deal with. Arashi…well, whatever, _he_ can’t put a stop to this, because this is what a wizard wants, so to hell with him and his opinions. “Do you make all of your bodyguards undress?” he idly asks, pulling at the lacings of his breeches. 

Arashi raises an eyebrow, but as long as no one is telling him to leave, he doesn’t bother. It’s always fun to watch a show, even if he hadn’t known he was about to get one, and it isn’t as if his predilections are a secret.

“The ones with nice legs,” Shu admits. “But I don’t usually ask them to take everything off.” He spares a glance at Arashi, then lets out a huff. “If you must stay, at least attend to Mika.”

“I have nicer legs than all of them. _And_ a nicer arse,” Izumi insists, thumbing the skintight fabric down over his hips. 

Mika’s eyes roll, and he flops down onto a long pillow, kicking his feet in the air as he unravels a rope from his pocket and starts twisting it around his fingers. “I’m reeeeally fine, Master. Enjoy your show.” 

“If you’re going to attend to anyone, attend to me! Did you _know_ wizards aren’t allowed to have lovers?” Izumi snaps in Arashi’s direction, furious in the way that only a drunk person can be. “Stupid. Ridiculous! Look how gorgeous he is,” he hisses, waving a hand in Shu’s direction. “It’s a fucking crime.” 

“I know,” Arashi says wistfully, though his eyes don’t linger on Shu, but on Mika, rolling around with his feet in the air and a bit of rope in his hands. So cute. “Our king, in his esteemed wisdom--oh, look, I can say it with a straight face--thinks it’s the only way to keep them from being seduced by the enemy.”

Shu huffs. “You’d think the solution would be to ply us with beauties until our loyalty was unquestioned. Come here, sit on the table in front of me, I’m going to touch you while I’m drunk.”

“Our king is a fucking idiot. I’m drunk,” Izumi reminds the room, because Arashi is an unknown still and saying that he’s drunk is clearly enough to prevent words from being misconstrued. Izumi hauls himself to his feet all the same, kicking off his breeches to shamelessly drop down in front of Shu, stretching out a leg for him. “Here. Touch it, it’s smooth. I can’t stand body hair.” 

“Ahhh...how do you do that without magic?” Shu asks, fingers running appreciatively over toned calves, then up to Izumi’s thighs. “Yes, hairless everywhere, very nice, very interesting, very beautiful.” 

His eyes draw upward, and he bites his lip, sighing. “It looks very lovely. This is making me quite upset.” 

“Hmm, maybe I can help.”

Arashi slides up behind Izumi suddenly, one finger running down his shoulder. “Want me to touch him for you, Excellency? If he doesn’t mind, of course...”

Now even Mika’s interest is piqued, if the sudden, catlike fixation of his eyes is any indication. Izumi’s skin prickles from the careful, methodical touch of Shu’s hands _and_ the sudden, teasing brush of Arashi’s fingers. Sucking in a slow breath through his nose, Izumi shifts, his thighs trembling when he’s torn between pressing them together or letting them fall further open. “…it’s not like I mind,” he mutters, licking at his lips. “But you better be good at it.” 

“Heh, for once my reputation didn’t proceed me, huh?” Arashi says with a teasing laugh, pulling back to call out a quick order out of the tent, setting a few of his men to watching the tent flap, forbidden to enter unless there’s an actual attack on the camp. He tugs off his own cuffs, then his swordbelt, then his shirt, flexing slightly and turning to make sure Izumi can see all of his sculpted body. “Ever done this kind of thing with an audience before, darling? Also, let me know any preferences now, though I know his Excellency loves to see a pretty boy opened up by someone big and athletic.”

A little groan comes from Shu’s mouth, but he doesn’t move, hands perfectly still in his lap now, eyes flicking between the two of them.

Mika has shifted. His pillow has become a pillow stack, notably right next to Shu’s chair, and he huddles behind a couple of them, that sharp, unnerving stare of his wrapped up in every single move that Arashi makes. 

Izumi does a good job of not falling off the table, he thinks, and it has little to do with being drunk. Talking grumpily about how attractive Arashi is—that’s one thing. Seeing it like this, that’s another, especially when it’s been (in his very firm opinion) far too long. “You can do whatever you want to me,” he blurts out, his face flushed and lips parted. “I’ve…I’ve never, not in front of anyone, but that doesn’t matter to me.” 

“Ah...how sweet.” Arashi moves up behind Izumi, setting his lips to the curve of his neck and kissing, then nipping, then scraping with his teeth. “No one’s ever seen you thoroughly debauched and enjoyed before now, hmm? Lucky me~e. Mika, darling, anything you want to see first?” His hand moves, idly tracing down over Izumi’s chest, cupping his pecs and thumbing over a nipple in a way that would be idle if it weren’t so intent.

“Make him suck it.” There’s not even the slightest hesitation from Mika before he answers, either, or even a bit of flush to his cheeks. He shifts restlessly behind his pillows and underneath the heavy fall of his hair, his eyes lidding. “Please.”

“Fuck,” Izumi mutters, biting at his lower lip as his chest heaves, one hand hurrying to grab at Arashi’s hand and hold those calloused fingers near his nipple, hoping he toys with it again. His other hand half-heartedly pulls his hair up, out of the way, encouraging the mouth on his neck when every single little kiss and bite seems to go straight to his cock. “Yeah, sure. Let me suck it first.” 

Arashi’s hands are capable and strong, deftly yanking Izumi off the table and onto the floor, arranging him on his knees. “Didn’t you hear his Excellency, Izumi darling? You’re too eager. He wants me to _make_ you suck my cock.”

With that, he fists a hand in Izumi’s hair, taking himself in the other hand to rub the head against Izumi’s lips. “Open up,” he breathes, eyes flicking over to make sure their audience can see everything. “Or I won’t let you come up for air until you’ve sucked me dry.”

Shu shifts in his chair, one hand delving surreptitiously beneath his robes, tugging the fabric over his lap to keep from exposing himself as he starts to rub against his palm.

Izumi feels the ruddy flush to his cheeks immediately turn a dozen times worse. Lightheaded, he’s lightheaded from how hard he suddenly is, and if he were any less drunk—

No, he still wouldn’t be embarrassed, fuck that.

He parts his lips only enough to stick his tongue out, getting a taste of the musky, distinctively male taste of Arashi, and he shudders, his hands fisting against his own thighs. “You heard him,” he hoarsely whispers, his eyes fluttering. “Make me.” The rustle of Mika’s own robes is tell-tale. 

It isn’t Arashi’s first time showing off a pretty boy for his two wizards. He knows what they like--particularly Mika, who actually talks to him afterwards about what he’d enjoyed, what he wants more of. He grabs that cloud-soft hair, then starts to shove himself into Izumi’s mouth, lips parting for a sigh. “Good boy, open up, pretty kitty needs to drink all of her milk whether she likes it or not. Feel how hard I am just from looking at you? That’s your fault, so take care of it.”

It’s a fun idea to act like he doesn’t want it, but Izumi isn’t the best at it—nor does he particularly care to be.

A groan gets stuck in his throat, and he does, at least, stop himself from surging up to swallow more of Arashi down. He just lets Arashi pull him down instead, swallowing hard and blinking rapidly to stop the sudden, hot prick of tears when Arashi flat out _doesn’t_ relent, and the thick head of his cock shoves down his throat, bumping back against it, threatening his gag reflex for a hot minute. Izumi inhales shakily through his nose, his hands lifting to paw at Arashi’s thighs, his tongue curling helplessly against the underside of Arashi’s cock, the taste making him shiver and squirm where he kneels.

“You’re very good at that,” Arashi murmurs, knowing his audience likes it when he talks. It’s the closest they get to interacting without all of them dying horribly, after all. He threads his fingers in Izumi’s hair, winding the long strands around his fingers, then yanking him down hard to let everyone hear those sweet panicked choking noises for a few moments before pulling leisurely out. “Very good, very good...ah, my apologies, Excellencies, I don’t think I’ve been feeding him enough, if the way he’s looking for protein is any indication.”

Izumi gasps for a full breath, blinking hard to keep tears from leaking out even when he’s already making a mess of himself with the sticky, gossamer strand of saliva that connects his tongue and Arashi’s cock when he finally pulls back. His cock drips between his legs, flushed dark at the tip, and Izumi hears himself whine before he can stop himself. “Please,” he groans, lending himself to the pull of Arashi’s hands, tilting his head up to get his mouth on Arashi’s cock again. “C…captain, I’ve fasted all day waiting for you, I…” 

Mika exhales a flustered, pleased noise, and burrows deeper down into his little self-made fort. 

Arashi spares a glance around the room, making sure that every one is still on board with the whole ‘cadet-that-needs-to-be-fed’ plotline. Yep, still looks like a go. He tilts his head, looking down at Izumi, rubbing a thumb over his swollen bottom lip. “You’ve been so good on your knees for me,” he murmurs. “Acting like a little bitch in heat. Go on, and be thorough. This is all you’ll get to eat or drink tonight.”

A curse comes from Shu’s mouth, and his face flushes, hand sticky between his thighs.

Izumi’s tongue swipes out to suck Arashi’s thumb into his mouth first, his eyes intent, no matter the pleased, content glaze to them. Then he grabs for Arashi’s cock with trembling fingers, unrepentant, his tongue dragging over the head’s leaking slit before eagerly swallowing him down, making no attempt to muffle the hungry, mindless little whimpers that leave his throat beyond the cock stuffed down it. 

Mika huffily shivers, pulling a pillow over his flushed face when he actually _has_ to stop watching for a moment— _too much, too overstimulating._

Arashi groans, on the verge of giving Izumi everything he needs, heat boiling in his belly, when he catches sight of Mika’s hidden face, and he gets control of himself, pulling out. He pants, hand on Izumi’s head for balance now, and closes his eyes, trying to stop himself from spilling immediately. “Mika, darling, you want something else? Or you want me to finish it? This is for you, you know.” The gentle, but fervent affection in his voice leaves little doubt as to the handsome Captain’s true feelings, tamped down though they may be.

“D…do whatever you want,” comes Mika’s breathless whisper, his shoulders trembling where he huddles underneath the pillow. “Arashi, I…” 

Izumi groans, his head thunking forward against Arashi’s thigh, dragging his tongue over his swollen lips. “Do us all a favor and feed me like you wanna feed him, Captain,” he rasps. Mika’s eager swallow at that is audible, and Izumi’s laugh is ragged and tipsy if not good-natured when he paws for Arashi’s cock again. “C’mon, please, I’m huungry, so is he.” 

Arashi’s curse drowns out Shu’s, and he lurches forward, sliding deep into Izumi’s mouth with three powerful strokes, hips pistoning in hard, slamming against the back of his throat. That added stimulation is all he needs, and he bites his lip, keeping himself quiet when he finally comes, pulling back far enough to flood Izumi’s mouth. “Lap it all up, kitty,” he whispers, hands tight in Izumi’s hair, not letting him pull away.

Izumi almost chokes. His vision blurs, the bitter, heavy masculine taste on his tongue threatening to make him gag for a moment before he swallows, loud and deliberate, and again, taking care not to spill a drop no matter how it threatens to drip from his mouth. He twists against Arashi’s hold to no avail—fuck, he’s as strong as he looks, and that’s…so hot, he kind of wants to die—and stares up at him through his lashes, cheeks flushed, chest heaving. 

Mika’s breathy little whimper is lost against a pillow, an obvious shiver raking down his spine. His cheeks are red and he buries his face back into his pillow after picking it up for a moment, just to catch a glimpse of Arashi once more. 

The smallest whimper from Mika’s mouth makes Arashi a hundred times harder than Izumi’s wet tongue. He closes his eyes hard--it’s too easy, too tempting to run over and grab the wizard, kissing him hard--

No, no, no. He didn’t get to be the Captain of his own entire host because he has no self-control. He can do this, and he has to, for Mika’s sake. Sure, dying would be awful, but far worse would be how Mika would feel, knowing that Arashi died for him. 

That’s the thought that keeps him in place, slowly pulling out of Izumi’s mouth, patting his head. “Good boy,” he murmurs, leaning back against the table. “Mika, darling, you want me to get him off? Or should he have to stay like this?”

Mika shakes his head, and slowly lifts his head, his face blotchy but eyes bright, lips parted as he runs his tongue over his lower lip. Arousal makes him bold. “You should…y’should take care of him, _kara,_ ” he murmurs, lapsing into his native tongue for the affectionate moniker. Even the prying ears of the king can’t speak _his_ language. “Like you would if it were me.” 

Wouldn’t be the first time he’s a surrogate, and Izumi doesn’t particularly mind even if it were, besides. His blinks a few times to clear the tears out his eyes, and spares a glance to Shu—who at least, for his part, doesn’t seem to give a damn so long as he gets a good view of him, and Izumi _does_ appreciate that. “Literally _anything_ you want,” he mutters, wobbling where he kneels. his vision still refusing to focus because of how hard he is (and how drunk he is). “I’m flexible. Ahh…literally, and figuratively…” 

“Come here.”

Arashi’s eyes are locked on Mika, but his hands are confident and sure as he pulls Izumi up onto the table, spreading his legs wide, Izumi’s back to Arashi’s chest. “This isn’t how I’d do it,” he says, voice a little rough as he strokes himself back to hardness, his other hand wandering over Izumi’s torso, seeking out a nipple to pinch and tug. “I’d have you in a soft bed, I’d kiss you for hours, I’d turn off all the lights so no one could ever see you and you’d never be afraid again, and you’d be, gods, you’d be so happy.”

He bites into Izumi’s shoulder, partially because he knows Izumi will like it, partially because he needs to remember who he’s with, hauling Izumi back to display him. “Here, something for His Excellency Shu. Spread your pretty hole for us, bastard page. Show us you’re worth keeping around.”

Izumi’s breath stutters, and with it, his cock twitches, barely interested in waiting a moment longer. “D…don’t call me that,” he groans in protest before he stuffs a pair of fingers into his own mouth, pulling them free slick with his own saliva. “I _know_ I’m worth keeping around,” he pants out as he reaches back, taking his time to rub his fingers against his hole, then sinks them inside with a low, breathless noise, deliberately spreading himself wide. “Ahh…fuck, if I come, it’s because you’re watching me, Shu, I can feel it.”

Shu makes a motion as if he’s about to start up from his chair, and Arashi flicks a glance at him, warning and reassuring at the same time. Shu subsides, licking his lips, and nods. “Don’t call him that,” he orders. “Besides, he doesn’t look like a page, how preposterous.”

“Oh? What does he look like, then, your Excellency?”

Shu’s eyes rake down Izumi’s body, and his violet eyes cloud with arousal. “Like an elegant maiden that longs to be a whore,” he says softly, watching Izumi to see his reaction.

Izumi wobbles, slumping forward when his cock gives a desperate, trembling throb, and he spills over onto the table with a relieved, breathy groan. “T…that’s good,” he whispers, raking his sweaty hair out of his face with his other hand. “Ah…s-sorry, I couldn’t wait anymore, I…” 

Arashi laughs gently, giving Izumi’s cheek a kiss and releasing his own cock. “Good, it didn’t want to get hard again anyway. We’ll save that for next time, Milady.” His eyes flick over to Mika, and he asks softly, arms around Izumi from behind, “Have we pleased you, Excellency?”

“Mmph.” Mika, now buried down into his pillow pile (which has acquired a few blankets), looks decidedly sulky. About what is anyone’s guess, or at least, it’s certainly too much effort for Izumi to try and decipher it right now. 

Dizzy, sweaty, and still very tipsy, Izumi half-heartedly bats Arashi away, sliding off of the table with a thump. “I’m cleaning up, and then I’m going to go puke,” he mutters, stumbling away to grab his breeches. “Fuck me, never should’ve gotten drunk on an empty stomach.” 

“Don’t bother coming back inside when you’re done,” Shu says, fastidiously wiping off his hand. “Leave us alone for the night, both of you, unless someone attacks.”

Arashi nods, fetching his clothing and fastening it on, stuffing his shirt tails back into his breeches. “I’ll make sure you’re undisturbed.” He pauses, hand on the tent flap, not looking at either of them. He wavers for a moment, obviously about to say something, then shuts his mouth firmly, striding out of the tent and not looking back.

“Making my life hard,” Izumi grouses, snatching up the rest of his clothes and making a valiant effort of not vomiting yet until he’s dressed and waving a distracted hand good night to Shu before stumbling out of the tent, glaring at the guards posted there, and getting a few paces away before emptying out the contents of his stomach.

_Delightful._ He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, untethers his horse, and drags the fatass after him. “Oi. Oi, _Captain_ ,” he calls, catching up in a few hurried strides, much to Vale’s distaste. “Are you too tired for an evening ride? I know _I_ won’t sleep until I’m sure the area’s secure.” 

Arashi stops in his tracks, then lets his head tip back, breathing deep. He nods. “Ride with me towards enemy lines. Maybe if we’re lucky we’ll pick off a couple of scouts. My blood’s up, I’ve got to take someone else’s before I sleep. Squire, Daran! Bring my warhorse, saddled.”

_Huh. That actually worked._ Izumi waits until Arashi’s horse is brought over before he swings up into his own saddle, and the world only spins a _little_. “I,” he warns, “am still slightly tipsy.” 

Arashi grins, and releases the peace tie on his blade. “Good thing you’re with a fine swordsman, then. Stay behind me if you’re still swaying, I won’t let you get hurt.” With that, he and his horse leap onto the mountain trails, winding their way through the Sharps. 

Once their out of earshot of the camp, he slows slightly, walking Neigh beside Vale. “So. How’d you like your first wizards?”

Cold air and riding does wonders to sober him, and Izumi briefly shuts his eyes, exhaling a long breath. “They’re certainly…different, aren’t they.” He hesitates, picking his words carefully for once—probably because he can still feel the alcohol, more likely because he’s not a fucking idiot, and he’s _very_ aware that Arashi…well… “Shu isn’t a problem,” he settles upon. “We, ah. How he put it works, I guess. Resonate. But Mika…sorry, I’m not good with people like him.” 

“Good, he’s not for you,” Arashi says shortly. His hands clench on the reins, and he slowly, deliberately unclenches them. “Sorry. Just...leave him to me. He doesn’t want more friends, he can’t handle them. He’s a sad story, you know? Ah, I’m glad you like Shu, he’s hard for me.”

“Then between the two of us, it’s taken care of,” Izumi diplomatically settles upon. “Shu’s easy. He just wants to be told that he’s smart and beautiful. I can relate.”

Arashi snorts. “I should have known you’d get along. Well, good. He’s run his old minders ragged, we needed new blood.” 

He falls silent for a moment, then says quietly, “It’s not one of those rules that you can break in secret.”

“I know. I asked. Just because—you know, I’m nosy, I was curious if he had a lover. Like hell if I knew how wizards worked before today.” Izumi glances down at his bare hands, wryly realizing he’s left his gloves behind in the wizards’ tent. Oh well. He’ll deal with that tomorrow. “It’s stupid, if you want my opinion, and I know you do. They’re fancy, high-status slaves under those kinds of laws. I already promised Shu I’d have it taken care of when the prince becomes king, so I’ll tell you the same.” 

Arashi lets out a sigh, nodding. “I’ve hoped,” he admits. “The prince seems very reasonable. But I’ve known many young men who wanted to change things that grew up into Lords afraid to lose their power. I try not to get my hopes up anymore. Don’t tell Mika. If he thinks it’ll happen and it doesn’t...”

“Idiot. The prince isn’t reasonable at all. That’s why he’ll do it.” Izumi’s lips twitch to a smile without realizing it. “Forget _telling_ Mika anything, I’m not even _looking_ at him anymore, he thinks I’m scary for some reason and I’m not dealing with that from you.” 

“He thinks everyone is scary. He thought I was scary for years,” Arashi says, voice turning wistful and unbearably fond.

“You’ve known him that long and you’ve kept your hands to yourself?” Izumi pulls Vale closer and leans over. “Are you human? He has a sexy accent and _everything_.” 

“Ugh, isn’t it wonderful? And it’s so sexy when he gets all breathy, and so cute when he starts talking in dialect, I get hard enough to cut diamonds.” Arashi shakes his hair out of its tie, sweeping it back again irritably. “But I can’t leave him. And if I die, he won’t have anyone normal that can take care of him. I...”

Arashi waves, helplessly, back at the camp, down at his uniform. “How embarrassing. I did all this for him, so I could protect him. I thought, if I was a commander of a host that could support a wizard, I could at least take care of him, instead of everything the Academy wizards have to go through.”

“I don’t think it’s embarrassing. Ah…well, that’s not entirely true, it’s always embarrassing to be that lovesick,” Izumi has to tease, because when else will he get the opportunity, really. “But—I get it.” 

He’s not quite drunk enough now to spill his guts about a certain prince, so he glances skyward instead, blowing a strand of his loose hair out of his face. “Ever thought about just running away?” he asks, not joking in the slightest. “You’re good enough that they’d think twice about chasing you, especially if you stole a wizard that was far more loyal to you.” 

“Sure, if there were anywhere to go.” Arashi shrugs. “South, they kill you if you’ve got the wrong color skin, and we do. West, it’s Inglings, and whatever they’re fleeing is nothing I want to fight. East, it’s the ocean. North--well, you’re from up there. Should we take our chances with your snowy mountains, do you think?”

“Depends. How much do you like jumping into cold lakes in the middle of winter?” The question is a dry one. “Point taken. I guess he’s not the type that would enjoy running from place to place for the rest of his life, huh.” 

“No. He can barely handle life in a protected room full of soft things and stuffed animals. His...it isn’t really his mind, I suppose, but his heart isn’t really _right_ , you know? He worries about things that...” Arashi flutters a hand, lost for words. “Things that don’t make sense. They hurt him inside. And I can’t fight that kind of demon...Ahh, that’s more than you need to hear, just...be aware. His master is close to the same. There’s a reason the King is willing to let those two on the perimeter.”

“Mm. I got that impression. I’m sure I’ll hear more about it, Shu is actually fairly forthcoming, even before you get him drunk. His idea, by the way,” Izumi says with a roll of his eyes. “ _Not_ mine.” 

Twigs snap in the surrounding forest, and the fluttering wings of a bird are enough to put him on edge, but when everything goes still again, Izumi pays it little mind. “If the king _did_ lift those restrictions on wizards— _would_ you be with him?”

The smile that flickers across Arashi’s mouth isn’t a happy one, and his hand moves to the hilt of his sword, current silence notwithstanding. “Better ask him that than me. He hates the idea of everyone looking at him, even for a good reason. Hmm, but I’ve thought of it, whisking him away to my Keep, keeping him as my illicit lover that everyone knew about but ignored because I’m so important to the realm. It’s only...”

“None of that, it’s a yes or no question. I’m not petitioning the eventual king about this kind of nonsense for my health, you know.” 

Arashi scowls. “Rude. Ask him, then.” The tense, unhappy line of his mouth is back. “But if it’s what you’re asking, then yes, all things being equal, that’s what I want. I’ve just always thought it would be too cruel to ask him if that’s what he wants.”

“He spent the last half hour imagining it was his mouth on your cock, Captain, not mine. I don’t think he could be more clear about what he wants.”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t want me, of course. Look at me, who wouldn’t?”

Izumi turns his head to look at Arashi, because why not, it’s an invitation. “Sure. But what was it he called you in the heat of the moment—ahh, it’s escaping me. See, there was a girl from the South that married one of the local nobles at my mother’s estate, and she had the same accent your Mika does, and spoke so _sweetly_ to her husband in her native tongue…I think Mika used the same word, maybe I should ask Shu what it means, he’d know, and he likes flaunting his knowledge.” 

“ _Kara_ ,” Arashi says softly, and pulls up the ends of his cloak around his shoulders, looking around the empty pass. “Damn bad luck of the Inglings to pick tonight not to attack, hm? I was really hoping to wet my blade tonight. The other one.”

“That’s the one. ‘Beloved’, something like that? But you probably already know.” Izumi’s mind drifts for a moment, and he stares out into space, mind tripping over the ridiculous, sugary-sweet nonsense he’s exchanged with Leo in the past. Gods, some things can _never_ be made public. “Why won’t you spar with me?” 

“Because you’re too good, I’m terrified to look weak in front of my men,” Arashi quips, a serene smile back on his face.

“You bitch. Fight me like a man.” 

“Pass, save it for when it matters.” Arashi flips a hand. “Ask my men, I don’t fight duels.”

“I’m not challenging you to a duel, I’m telling you to spar with me. Asking. I’m asking.” 

“And I’m refusing. Learn to live with the disappointment, I’m not going to hurt a page.”

“The fact that you think you can turns me on. You know, at this point, I think I prefer Shu’s address for me rather than ‘page.’” 

The corner of Arashi’s mouth twitches. “Then hurry up and prove yourself a knight, or chop off your twig & berries and become his maidservant. Either way, I’m not going to--”

The sound is quieter than a snapping twig, but more intent. Arashi’s sword is in his hand before his mind even registers the threat, and he lurches forward on Neigh, her back legs kicking out hard. That takes care of one of the creatures now behind them, low, slinking beasts that remind Arashi of dogs mostly, but with massive antlers, ready to eviscerate on a moment’s order. At a rapid count, he senses five of the beasts, not counting the one currently bleeding from a hoof in the brain. “Five,” he calls to Izumi with a wave of his free hand at the beasts. “You have a spear?”

“Does it look like I have a spear, I just came from a party,” Izumi snidely replies, grateful now that he’s back to being sober, even if a sober world seems _much_ less entertaining. Vale snorts, head tossing as Izumi whirls him around, sword already drawn. “I _swear_ your Mika was making a plush toy that looked like one of these things earlier.” 

They seem to like attacking in pairs, but their wariness of Neigh makes them lunge for Vale and Izumi instead. Izumi has none of it, releasing the horse’s head entirely to let him do what he will when the first slithery dog-thing snaps at him with its drooling, serrated mouth, and one of Vale’s massive hooves crunches into an antler, snapping off part of it in a way that leaves the creature shaken and hissing. Its partner remains undeterred, bounding up to snap its teeth into Izumi’s boot, seemingly surprised that the owner of it doesn’t shy away, but instead, stays fast and stabs the knife from the same boot directly into its eye. Izumi rips it out and kicks the damned thing away, visibly pissed off. _Ow_. Slithery, snaky, antler-y dog things bite hard.

Arashi hooks his boot into his stirrup, then throws himself into a massive lean, draping over the side of Neigh’s back to whip his sword through one creature’s neck. Its blood drips like ichor, running in sticky rivulets into the ground. He hauls himself back up to the saddle, yanking a cloth from his belt and hurriedly wiping off the tacky stuff. “Wipe your blade if you want to keep it, snog blood is corrosive!”

His blood pounds in his veins, and a wild grin spreads across his face. This, this is what he _lives_ for. He nudges Neigh to a nearby tree, then reaches up, yanking a massive branch until it cracks off in his hand, a good two meters long. Urging Neigh back into the fray, he spins it once above his head to build up momentum, then swoops, slamming the side of it into one snog so hard it crushes the entire ribcage with one blow, hurling the creature into the side of the mountain where it lays limp.

Corrosive blood _and_ dumb names, excellent. Sounds like Borderland life for sure. Izumi hurriedly wipes off the knife, just in time for the last, whole creature to take a snap at Vale’s kicking hooves, and just in time for it to take its teeth to the horse’s weaker leg, as if it can _smell_ the weakness there. 

Izumi curses as Vale shrieks, and he leaps off before he can be thrown, sword drawn like the spear he wishes he _did_ have on his person at the moment when he stabs the snog straight through the spine and twists, wrenching down through its flesh. It flops like a gutted fish, teeth still gnashing in his direction in its death throes, and Izumi kicks it off of his blade, barely taking the time wipe his sword and sheath it before whipping his attention back to his horse. His own foot stings, even if the injury is already a memory, but Vale is openly bleeding, and obviously more furious than frightened. 

“Easy, easy…that was five, wasn’t it?” Izumi finally gets a hold back on Vale’s reins again, standing still and calm while the horse rears and blusters. There’s not _much_ else to do when his horse gets like this. Izumi can relate, even with the bad timing. “Keep watch while I deal with him, will you?” 

Arashi looks at the bite, then curses, gritting his teeth as he looks around. “I’m sorry, Izumi. Their teeth are venomous. You’ll have to end it. I can do it if you can’t.”

Izumi’s heart thuds too-fast in spite of himself, and he’s abruptly taken back to his conversation with Shu earlier. _I’ve never tested it on poison, so I don’t know about that._

Well, _he_ seems unaffected, so perhaps that counts as a test. He deliberately keeps himself turned away, hoping Arashi’s obnoxiously keen eyes won’t take note of the teeth marks in his own boot.

“I’ll kill you if you touch my horse,” Izumi mutters, waiting for Vale to stop bouncing, and then finally losing his patience, snatching on the reins and hauling him back firmly. “He’s Northern stock, don’t make light of that. Stop it, you idiot. Maybe for once all of your fat will come in handy, huh? It can absorb some of that venom.” 

He crouches down, trying not to look like he’s in a hurry about wiping the blood away from his horse’s leg with a cloth. The more he can do now, the better, and he makes a point to massage and knead down the already swelling, bleeding pastern. Vale snorts and shifts unhappily, dropping his head down to grab up a mouthful of Izumi’s hair and chew, but Izumi ignores him, feeling his eyes start to water. Venom—poison—whatever—it feels different underneath his hand, as corrosive as that sticky, gross blood, and Izumi feels his stomach turn. 

But he also feels the venom’s course all but _stop_ , and then _wither_ , and the relief from that makes him feel sicker than the actual effort. 

_Don’t throw up, don’t throw up._ Izumi sucks in a shaky breath and he rocks backwards, giving into the urge to sit down for a moment. Vale settles, still chewing on his hair, and Izumi holds up a hand. “Just…give me a second.” It’s fine if Arashi thinks he’s panicking about his horse. That’s an adequate excuse for all of this.

Arashi sighs, dismounting and flipping Neigh’s reins over her back. “Guard,” he tells her, and watches her posture change, eyes fixed on the road as he walks towards Izumi, laying a consoling hand on his shoulder. “Is it your first time?” he asks gently. “It’s fine if you can’t watch. But the spasms are going to start soon, I’ve seen it a dozen times. You don’t want to see that.”

“You can stop talking shit about my horse at any point,” Izumi mutters, shrugging off Arashi’s hand. Vale releases Izumi’s hair, spitting it out and staring over at Arashi disinterestedly before turning his head to start mouthing at a low-lying tree branch, as if nothing life-threatening had just happened to him. Slowly, shakily, Izumi picks himself up, feeling his empty stomach do another flip-flip. “If I puke again, I’m gonna scream,” he groans, wiping a hand down his face. “Look, see, he’s fine. You can’t kill Northern horses, there’s a reason why they’re built like they are.” 

Arashi stares at the horse, acting in a way he would have said would never, ever happen. Then he shuts his mouth, and exhales deeply. “Right. How much for a hundred?”

“Uh—“ Shit, it’s the lotion all over again. “They’re not exactly common, you know.” 

“Yeah, I know, I can get lots of common horses,” Arashi says patiently. “I’ll pay up to three hundred royals per head, or an equivalent exchange of sheep, goats, bushbeans, hemp--anything we can grow in the mountains, I’ve got. What’s your price, and how fast can I get a hundred?”

Doing the math on that makes Izumi’s eyes glaze. That’s not comfort for his mother’s estate for a year; that’s comfort for a solid _score._ “…Twenty in two weeks, the rest by the end of the year,” he manages, pulling the numbers swiftly out of his ass. He’ll figure it out later, he always does. “But I’m not contacting my mother about this unless you promise me one thing.” 

“I told you to name your price, I’m a man of my word. No matter what my brother might tell you, heh.”

“Fine. Then on top of what you pay for those horses, train with me. Me, _personally_ , until I’m sick of it.” Izumi would put a lot more fire behind those words if he didn’t currently feel like dying. His eyes are bright, though, in spite of the fever-flush to his cheeks. “I didn’t come here to babysit wizards or become a foot soldier. I’ll do it, but that’s not why I’m here.” 

Arashi purses his lips, but honestly, it’s not much of a decision, if he can get his men mounts that can stand up to the snogs. “Deal. Sorry in advance, you’re going to hate this.”

“No, you’re going to hate this, because I don’t quit.” Izumi’s stomach gives another dangerous flip, and he turns away. “One second.” 

So _that’s_ what dealing with poison or venom does. He barely has a chance to stumble to the side of the pass, bracing a hand against a tree as his already _very_ empty stomach comes up again, except—this time, it’s more or less black, sticky and horrendously bitter, and Izumi dry heaves. He leans back, spitting, trembling from how light-headed he suddenly feels, but at least his stomach isn’t trying to claw its way out through his mouth anymore. “Fuck this,” he mutters, wiping the back of his mouth and cringing. “Do you have a hair tie? I left mine with those stupid wizards.”

Arashi pulls an extra leather tie out of his saddlebag, handing it over along with a skin of water. “I’ve got one of wine, too, but I feel like you’ve had enough of the hard stuff for the night, my delicate flower. Are you going to be all right to ride home?”

Izumi snatches both out of Arashi’s hands and downs half of the skin before passing it back. “What’s the other option, leaving me on the mountain pass?” he moodily snaps, tying his hair back from his face. If Arashi thinks he’s a lightweight, then mission accomplished. “I’m fine. I want a long, cold bath, but I’m fine.” 

Arashi ties his skin back up, securing it to his saddlebag, a little smile playing over his face. “I’ll see what I can do for Milady in our encampment. Try not to demand too much, we’re just humble country folk.”

What he _doesn’t_ need right now is his body rousing horrifyingly. Izumi’s face flushes for a different reason other than poison-fevers. “As expected, that’s better than ‘bastard page’,” he grumbles, though there’s no bite to his words. _That name is firmly reserved, thank you._ “You better have wet your sword enough now to be satisfied for the night.” 

“One of them, at least,” Arashi says cheerfully. He grabs the massive branch he’d used as a club earlier, then tosses it off the side of the mountain, letting it crunch its way down the cavern. Next, he grabs a snog by the leg, grimacing. “Help me toss these corpses off, I don’t want our beasts dealing with that shit tomorrow when the column comes through. Do _not_ get cut on their teeth, I don’t want to have to toss you off the cliff too.”

“Are you human?” Izumi deadpans for what feels like the twentieth time around Arashi, watching him sling things around that should _not_ be slingable. He idly wiggles his bitten toes—yep, still good, his boot’s the only real damage—and grabs the tail of one of the snogs with a wince. “Gross, they’re _slimy_.” 

“Aren’t they ugly? Seriously, gross.” Without even a grunt of effort, Arashi lifts the beast one-handed, tossing it over, then pulls out a handkerchief to wipe his hand fastidiously. “I was really hoping it would be Inglings. Snogs are awful, I hope they’re just a wild pack and not an infestation.”

“Seriously nasty,” Izumi grouses, dragging his own gross creature over to the ravine with much more effort, and makes a face at the sick, splattering noise it makes when it gets kicked over. “I’m gonna throw up again.” 

“What a shame, and after your Captain was kind enough to personally feed you.” Arashi lobs the last snog over the side, then swings back onto Neigh’s back. “Maybe if you’re a good girl, you’ll get breakfast before the rest of the troops do.”

Izumi wipes his hands before he dares to touch his horse, and pulls himself back up into the saddle, dragging Vale’s head up from munching contently on grass as if absolutely nothing happened to him. “Stop it,” he bluntly says, “or I’m going to live in your tent.” 

Arashi laughs, a post-battle high still pumping through his veins as they head back towards camp. “Begging to fight me, begging to service me...I really made a nice choice when I snatched you out of the court fire, eh? What were you doing for entertainment in the stuffy Capitol, you belong out here.”

“It’s not begging, it’s _demanding_ ,” Izumi snidely shoots back, nudging Vale up to fall into stride next to Neigh. “I was doing whoever I wanted, for the most part. If you want me to beg, give me a reason to.” 

“Please, all I’d have to do is order you to beg and you’d do it.” Arashi winks. “Want to try me? Or are you still seriously vomity?”

Izumi pointedly does not disagree, and considers instead, taking stock of whether or not his stomach wants to roll its way out of him again. “As long as you’re not trying to test my gag reflex again. Not tonight.” 

“Mm, not tonight indeed. I think...I’ll make you wait a bit. Heh. Unless Mika wants another show.” His mouth thins slightly. “I think he’s a little upset with me. Damned if I know why.”

“Because you’re touching someone that isn’t him, and obviously enjoyed it.” Izumi’s eyebrows raise. “Maybe don’t touch me in _front_ of him, actually. I don’t want to die by wizard fire or whatever. Even Shu warned me that he’s weird about you and I shouldn’t even mention you.” 

Arashi huffs, frustrated. “But I’m not _allowed_ to touch him, he knows that. He liked it most of the time...I was doing it for him, he knows that, he’s a smart boy.”

“Uh huh. Going out on a limb here, but I bet I’m the prettiest one yet, and you weren’t like, faking that you got off pretty damned fast. _And_ Shu liked me.” Izumi shrugs. “He’s jealous that it isn’t him. So please don’t touch me in front of him again, I think he might kill me.” 

“...Damn.” Arashi’s teeth grind. “Tell your prince to hurry up and become king before my cock falls off with how bad I want him, yeah?”

“Trust me, I’ll tell him.” Izumi hesitates, weariness and annoying, niggling sympathy getting the better of him. “It’ll make it better, when you finally do get to have him,” he says, idly twisting Vale’s mane around his fingers. “How many years has it been?” 

A grimace twists Arashi’s mouth, and he slides back in his saddle, throwing a leg over the pommel to ride lazily sidesaddle. “We’ve always been...bumping into each other, I guess you’d say. Fate, or whatever. I was fostered down in the South--I was born unlanded, did you know? Father had no title, no land, we were just country bumpkins, being frivolous and silly all the time. He fostered me out down South, so I was around when he bloomed. I didn’t know him, but I saw the destruction.” He shivers. “That gives me more nightmares than any war I’ve ever seen, even now.”

Izumi mentally does some of the math. “Wait—doesn’t wizard training take ten years, or something like that? I swear he doesn’t look a day over fourteen. Have you two been flirting since you could barely walk?” 

“Ah, damn, do I really look like that much of a pervert? Blessed gods, save me from Izumi’s wicked mind!” Arashi’s hand flies to his chest in mock-horror, laced with just a bit of actual horror. “He’s the same age I am, darling. He just looks young. And I didn’t _know_ him then, I was just a child and he was the blooming wizard that called a score of ghost-monsters to murder a city.”

“You should be grateful I wasn’t judgmental, because you are absolutely a pervert,” Izumi snippily replies. “And that’s…yeah, don’t hit me. Your cute Mika is very creepy.” 

“Mm, I wouldn’t hit you, he’s creepy. But in a really cute way. Anyway, about fifty people died. I ran down to go help with my little sword, imagine little seven-year-old me with a dull blade looking awfully cute, and I saw the King’s wizardcatchers come to take him away. We were all expecting to see some hulking brute get hauled out of that little hut, but...it was just a little boy in rags with a patch over one eye.” Arashi swallows hard. “I didn’t see him again for years, but I always remembered the pain on his face.”

“To the point that you sought him out at the academy and everything?” Izumi whistles quietly. “Or was that coincidence, too? Ah, that’s some red string of fate stuff, you can’t fight that.” 

“Right on the mark,” Arashi admits with a sigh. “When I was a squire, Sir Eren used to have me run errands for him, literally. He thought the best thing a knight could have was a sound body, so the faster I could run, the more he’d spoil me. I got a bit of a reputation, heh, so I wound up running a message from the Palace to the Academy--it’s a dangerous route, and they’d already lost a bunch of messengers.” He grins. “They didn’t lose me. So I became the one to deliver messages there and back. And the second I saw him, with that hair and those big eyes, I knew it was him.”

“This sounds like the romance novels my mother reads, I’m not joking.” It’s not like he’s invested now or anything. “Did he recognize you? Or did he not imprint like a duckling like you did?” 

Arashi’s heart flutters, and he squeezes the pommel of Neigh’s saddle. “He was too out of it that day. But I didn’t know...he used to sneak into the Palace dressed as a serving boy to watch the nobles dance at night. He used to see me there. So. We started talking then, even though we weren’t supposed to. If we wanted to go out and talk, we’d both put on dresses and wigs so no one would recognize us.”

Izumi looks Arashi up and down, openly skeptical. “ _You_ can pass as a woman? Right, you were younger. Taking your word for it. I’m marveling at your self-control, I’ll admit.” Never mind that he sat on his hands for a solid seven years and didn’t kiss his prince until Leo started it first, but… “If I were in your shoes and I knew he wanted me, I’m not sure I could help myself, life or death be damned.” 

“It isn’t just that.” Arashi’s voice is wistful, eyes unfocused as he looks back towards the camp. “He’s my best friend. I’ve never felt like someone understood me like he does.” Then he shakes his head, laughing at himself. “Also, I tried to run away with him, and he made me swear I’d never ask again. Apparently after I did that he couldn’t sleep for a week because he had raging nightmares that I was going to be murdered because of him. They make the wizard watch, you know. And it isn’t a quick execution.”

“That,” Izumi bluntly says, “is fucked up. What good is that supposed to do but drive them even more insane?” 

“Given that there’ve only been two cases of it happening in a decade, I think it’s supposed to be more of a deterrent,” Arashi says mildly. “Apparently they have quite a long unit on that sort of thing in the Academy, as well, drilling into them that anyone who touches them in their naughty parts is going to be eviscerated in front of them, because their magic is holy and only to be blah blah blah. Anyway. I finished my squireship and made a name for myself so I could commandeer a wizard. I didn’t expect him to show up with his master, but apparently they can’t travel apart. And it _does_ make me look very fancy, to have _two_ wizards under my command, eh?”

“Yes, yes, you’re very fancy,” Izumi dryly agrees, reaching over to pat the top of Arashi’s head sarcastically, like he would Leo at any given point. The sudden, relaxed reflex of it makes him feel awkward, and he withdraws his hand in a hurry. “Your love life is a mess.” 

Arashi darts a look sideways. Had his trainee page just patted his head? Yes, from the embarrassed flush on Izumi’s face, he had. In retaliation, Arashi reaches over and musses Izumi’s hair with a little laugh. “Isn’t it just? Ah, well. At least I’m in good company. So. Is it one-sided, or does he love you back?”

“My love life isn’t a mess,” Izumi grumbles, swatting Arashi’s hand away with little actual irritation. Are we close enough for me to drop names? I did suck his cock. We did just talk about his not-quite-lover in depth and he could get killed for that. He has been flirting with me. Izumi’s gaze flickers sideways, then away again. “For all your spies telling you I’m a desperate womanizer, you’re very certain it’s a man, huh?” 

_“In my experience,” Arashi says, no trace of malice in his voice now, “men with female lovers that make them stare wistfully off into space don’t hesitate to talk about them.”_

Ah. Fuck. Has he been staring off that much? A sudden, startling prick of tears to his eyes follows, and Izumi wants to slap himself, horrified at the reaction. “Gods,” he groans, burying his face into one hand. “I’m worse than a woman. Put me down now.” 

A clean handkerchief is offered, dangled from Arashi’s fingers. “First time apart? He lives in the Capital, right?”

“Don’t make me talk about it, I’ll—“ Izumi huffs, flustered, and he snatches the handkerchief away in spite of his words. This is the worst. He hadn’t realized it would be the worst, either, or he wouldn’t have even started this. Arashi needs to go back to talking about his doomed romance instead, so he can stop thinking about Leo’s twilight-colored hair, the ink always on his hands and cloaks, the way he always smells a little like fresh parchment or rosin… “Yeah. He lives there. We haven’t been apart in…seven, almost eight years.” His voice is a little raw, courtesy of forcing himself not to cry. “And I didn’t have much of a chance to speak to him, before I left.” 

“Tell me about him. The good things. You don’t have to spill his name if you don’t want to, I know how these things are. Heh, though you know enough about me to have my skin ripped off by birds, if you wanted, but...” Arashi shrugs. “I’m allowed to risk my life, I won’t ask you to risk your love’s life.”

“It’s…not a matter of risking his life,” Izumi admits with a ragged laugh, carefully dabbing at his eyes, refusing to scrub at the skin and give himself early wrinkles. “Or mine. I…gods, this is the worst, I never thought I’d hate being away from him so much, but here I am.” 

Izumi sucks in a soft breath and tilts his head back, blinking back the sharp sting of tears. “He’s the most beautiful thing in the whole capitol. Too smart, can’t sit through a class to save his life, he’s never been able to. He won’t shut up about things that aren’t real—unicorns, or creatures from the moon, that’s his damned favorite, it drives me crazy. He has the prettiest singing voice I’ve heard, and spends all of his time writing songs that no one will ever hear, because he thinks he’s awful at it, and th—his father tells him it’s a waste of time.” His heart thuds hard in his chest, aching, and Izumi’s fingers bunch the handkerchief up tightly. “And I’ve never met a better shot. Your archers have nothing on him. He could shoot you a star out of the sky if you pointed out the one you wanted.” 

Arashi’s chest flutters as if it’s his own romance Izumi is talking about, tears coming to his eyes. Beautiful love stories have always managed to get him emotional, and this one sounds incredibly forbidden, incredibly beautiful. “He sounds like a real prize,” he says softly, hopefully in a way that sounds like he understands. “Does he love you back, are you two...or is it tragic? It can’t be easy, with two noblemen.”

_Mutually assured destruction._ An annoying, sentimental part of Izumi’s mind reminds him that such things exist—not that he’d ever know it before. Without a single friend in the capital city aside from Leo, the idea of such things is…stupid, at best, but…god, he does know enough to have Arashi killed, doesn’t he? And the idea that someone else can understand, or even just vaguely relate, sounds like such a relief that his eyes threaten to water again. “Don’t put me in the same category as him.” Izumi swallows, his fingers trembling. “Bastards from the country and crowned princes—that’s not the same.” 

Arashi exhales slowly, his eyes widening. “God. You’re going to think I’m really stupid, but I honestly didn’t guess,” he admits, wiping a wrist over his forehead. He rides in silence for a moment, then says softly, “That’s not the same, you’re right. That’s, whoof. That can’t be easy.”

Izumi’s shoulders sag, and he slowly slouches forward, just lying down against Vale’s neck for a moment. “Thank god,” he eventually exhales. “I thought you already knew and were going to mock me relentlessly for being the most obvious fool in the world.” 

“Listen, Lady, you’re giving me credit I do not deserve,” Arashi says airily, reaching over to pat Izumi’s shoulder, then squeeze it. “So? Have you told him, or are you just watching from the--ohhhh, your decision to wait until he needs a squire makes _so_ much more sense, wow, nice job, Arashi.”

Izumi straightens with a huff, for once not slapping Arashi’s hands away. “I thought it was obvious at that alone,” he admits wearily, shutting his stinging eyes. “I…we’re…very…involved. Stake out his bedroom and know the exact schedules of his guards and climb up the trellis, that sort of thing.” He rubs at the back of his neck, embarrassed by how ridiculously overblown it all sounds. _Now who’s the one out of a romance novel? Ugh._ “So when I say I’ll bring certain agendas to the table when he finally is king, I’m serious. He’ll hear what I have to say.” 

Arashi lets out a low whistle. “I’d say so. Ahhh, that’s so romantic, though! I’m glad he loves you and you get to be with him.” 

And then, because he’s so embarrassingly weak to this kind of thing, he squeezes Izumi’s shoulder again. “I meant it when I said what I did about your Kingsguard. Any of my men you want, you can have. You’ll want me on the Western border, so I won’t do it myself, but you’ve got an ally.”

Izumi snorts at that, and wipes at his eyes again. “Unless I fuck this all up extraordinarily,” he only half-jokes, because what else can he say when he feels so vulnerable? “You _are_ looking at the next Captain of the Kingsguard. So…thank you.” He hesitates, then tiredly adds, “Do you understand now why I can’t be anything _but_ perfect? This kind of thing is why I was so annoyed that you wouldn’t as much as give me the time of day for a spar. I wasn’t asking to make a point of my skill; I’m asking to _hone it_. For him.” 

Arashi nods slowly, then swings down from Neigh’s back, setting her to guard. “Come at me, then.”

Izumi stares at him through bleary, disbelieving eyes, and sniffs, throwing the borrowed handkerchief into Arashi’s face. “Are you letting me sleep in your bed tonight?” 

Arashi rolls his eyes. “What kind of Captain of the Kingsguard would turn down a fight because he’s tired and sick? That’s my condition for sparring with you--you spar when I want, where I want, so get off that unkillable beast of yours and draw your sword.”

“I’m not turning you down, listen to the question.” Izumi slides off of Vale’s back, and like the great unkillable beast that he is, he promptly puts his head down to eat. “I’m asking—are you letting me sleep in your bed tonight, after all of this?” 

The second time around, Arashi hears not just the grumpiness and the weariness, but the loneliness, and his heart softens, though his stance doesn’t relax in the slightest. “I was going to drag you there no matter whether you wanted me to or not,” he says with a smile, and draws his sword. “Now. Come see why I wasn’t going to spar with you.”

Izumi’s lips twitch in spite of himself, and he cracks his neck with a tilt of his head, sorting out tension he’s held there for days as he draws his sword. “Heh. Good. Your bed better be softer than the shit I’ve been on for the past week, Captain. Let’s have some fun.” 


	5. Chapter 5

Arashi’s bed is soft, but nothing else about him is.

Izumi is a mix furious…and thrilled. He feels like a toddler again, which infuriates him. At the same time, a goal in sight makes him energized, even if it means going to the point of exhaustion, having to be the one to concede for the first time since he was seven, probably. He vaguely remembers collapsing into Arashi’s bed face first, every muscle tingling unhappily. A strange little penchant for healing only works so well in a war of attrition (and when your opponent is _so_ powerful and fast), especially after a night of overstimulation, drinking, and a very empty stomach.

Waking up warm and _thoroughly_ cuddled, however, isn’t the worst thing that has happened to him recently. 

Still sore, still tired, still an odd mix of cranky and elated by it, Izumi makes a vague show of knocking a hand against one of the wooden poles of the wizard’s canopy setup for the day. “Morning,” he greets before stepping inside, a basket on one arm. Today, Mika hisses at him directly, diving into what appears to be the kind of pillow-and-blanket fort contraption he remembers making as a child. “Right,” Izumi says, stifling a yawn. “You do that. These honey rolls are _very_ fresh, by the way. Eat up, I’m…” He makes a beeline for a chair. “Sitting.” 

Shu, sitting in his high-backed chair, darts a needle in and out of a patch of his robes, not even looking down at his hand. “You look like you were on the lower side of a stampede,” he says bluntly. “You’re supposed to be on _top_ of the horse.”

Izumi collapses the second he hits the chair. “Fend for yourself today, the only body I’m guarding is my own.”

“What happened to all that special stamina of yours yesterday?” Shu asks, amused. “How am I supposed to look at your beauty if you’re so pathetically downtrodden--if pleasuring a man with your mouth does this to you, I must rethink whether I despise my own imposed celibacy.”

Izumi flutters a hand at him. “Don’t be absurd, this isn’t because of sex. Well, not in the way you’re thinking.” His eyes glaze. “Arashi—ah, the Captain, he’s…”

Mika’s pillow fort collapses with an irritated rustle. 

“A very challenging person to spar with,” Izumi quickly settles upon, not allowing himself to wax poetic and compare the whole ordeal to sex like he’d like to. Making a joke along the lines of ‘I think I’m in love’ would be in poor taste, but more specifically, it would be a surefire way to die. “I’m taking one of these honey rolls,” he adds, grabbing one with trembling fingers. “I’m so exhausted, I can’t decide if I want to die or run from here to the capitol—that kind of feeling.”

Shu’s eyes light up. “I know the feeling,” he assures Izumi. “I had a friend much like that once. I always beat him in the end, of course, no matter what he’ll tell you. It’s exhilarating, is it not? Did he trounce you very thoroughly? At least you’re still beautiful.”

Mika isn’t killing him yet, and he’s quiet now that his fort has collapsed, so Izumi takes what liberties he can with that. “I swear he isn’t human. He’s so strong, what the hell, I don’t think I’ve ever been _thrown_ that far before.” His eyes flutter as he flops against the back of his chair. “I haven’t had a sparring partner that could beat me since I was a child. This is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I want to kill him. Ahh, do you have parchment and ink, I have to write a couple of letters when I can finally make my arms work…”

Shu sets his sewing neatly aside, then pulls out a box, unclasping it to reveal several finely pressed papers, pens, blotters, and pots of ink. He sets up fastidiously on the table, sharpening a quill pen and whetting the tip, then looks up expectantly. “What should it say?”

Izumi blinks over at him. “Oh. No, that’s not necessary. Give it to me, I’m writing it.” 

“Your arms don’t work, don’t be ridiculous. My penmanship is the most accurate and beautiful there is. Whoever you’re writing should burst into tears of gratitude to receive such a gift as my penmanship. Now. To whom should I address it?”

“…I’m sure it’s beautiful, and I’m sure they’d appreciate it, but—“ Izumi hesitates, then hesitates again, and sighs heavily. “One is to my mother. I don’t think I’m actually capable of _saying_ those sorts of sentiments out loud, so while the offer is, ah, very kind of you…” 

Shu passes the paper over, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “If she is a good woman, she deserves the most beautiful script you can muster. Don’t be ashamed of your feelings for her. Here, blotting sand.”

“My handwriting is just fine, thank you,” Izumi mutters, forcing himself to sit up no matter how his limbs creak and groan. “And I’m not _ashamed_ of my feelings _._ I just don’t think anyone else needs to be privy to them. Oh, I wanted to tell you—against poison. It works.” 

“Oh?” Intellectual curiosity flares, and Shu leans forward, sewing forgotten. “What sort of poison? How was it ingested? Did it feel just like healing a normal wound?”

“Ah, it was venom, I guess, technically, but…” Izumi makes a face. “Those gross snog things. One nipped me, and my horse. It didn’t _seem_ to take more effort, but I threw up afterwards.” And then again earlier this morning, which isn’t helping his fatigue, surely. “I could actually feel it stop working, it was very strange.” 

“Hmm...fascinating. That’s very good to know. Are you going to make your services available for others, or keep them to yourself? There isn’t a wrong answer to that, you know. I just want to know. Oh, and I’ve ordered several rare scrolls that might pertain to the source of the matter,” Shu adds, remembering. “I don’t know at what point they’ll arrive, especially as we’re slated to move out tomorrow, but eventually I’m certain I can discover the answer, even if I have to See into the past. That’s something most wizards can’t do, ha!”

Izumi’s stare is wary when he glances up from his letter writing. “I’m literally never telling anyone else if I can help it. I’m not getting picked up and shipped off, no way in hell.” 

“I’m not certain whether it helps or hurts,” Shu says with a slight frown, “but you wouldn’t be taken to the Academy. You’re not a wizard. In the Capital, you’re high-born enough, they might just kill you. But in the outer provinces...”

“Picked apart for science?” Izumi guesses in a deadpan, shaking his head as he turns back to writing after briefly shaking out the lingering numbness in his sword arm. “None of that appeals, thank you. You’re only the third person to know—fourth, I suppose, Mika is here and ignoring me—and I’ll keep it that way.”

“Yes, he’s pretending you don’t exist, don’t foul the waters by talking about him,” Shu says curtly. “Oh, I wanted to ask. What time of the year were you born? Many of the spirits and gods that could be your father are seasonal.”

“The second of November. Talking about how my father could be something inhuman is very creepy.” 

Shu blinks. “Honestly, what else could it be?”

“I…I don’t know. That doesn’t mean it isn’t disturbing.”

_—business matters aside, though I loathe to ask, do you remember—_

No, he can’t ask that. 

Izumi scratches it out, and instead opts to wax poetic about his handsome captain. “If that is the case about my father—is there still a chance I could…turn, somehow? In something that isn’t human?” 

“Of course. I’m not entirely an expert on the lore, but...hmm, let me see if I can remember some of the older legends.” Shu steeples his fingers, resting them against his chin as he thinks. “There’s the legend of the manticore’s bastard, Sir Gevrial, from the Scarlet Age. He could set fires with his mind, but not wizard fires, just the normal, campfire-sort. That’s the sort of attribute-added existence I believe we’re looking at, though clearly not the same source. I hope for your mother’s past sake that your father was something rather more...human-shaped.”

Izumi closes his eyes, holding up a hand. “I’ll vomit on you for even suggesting otherwise. Please. Remember what I asked? If for some reason this is especially disturbing, I don’t want to know.” 

Shu pales, far more than the threat would warrant, and pushes back from the table. “Please do not threaten me with something like that again, I dislike vomit more than you could possibly--Mika, I need Milady.”

Mika emerges after barely a second, wrapped up in one of his pillow fort blankets as he hands off the doll to Shu in short order. His sullen glare in Izumi’s direction speaks volumes, and Izumi heaves a sigh, burying his face into one hand. “My apologies. I’m not going to, I promise.”

He signs the letter, folds it, and sets it aside to seal and send off later. Now for the second one—which he feels a dozen times more self-conscious writing with company, actually, and so Izumi hesitates, chin in hand. “You’re obviously well-educated. Where is your family from?” 

Shu’s jaw sets a little more proudly, and he draws himself up. “You have very good taste, don’t you? Yes, you can see I’m aristocratic, even if my family was forced to sell off their titles last century. They’re the finest silk merchants in High Harbor. That’s where I was educated, before I went to the Academy. I was well-known for being my tutors’ favored pupil, before I became far smarter than they were, ha!”

“That does sound like you, yes. Does that mean you make your own clothes? I noticed your sewing, it’s very fine.” Arashi is obviously not used to dealing with this particular _brand_ of noble, if he finds Shu difficult. Fostered in the South indeed. Izumi stares down at the parchment in front of him, distracted, still drained from confessing his thoughts the night before, and he slowly slumps down, burying his face into his arms. _Ahh, so this is my limit, I’m ready to die now…_

“Are you ill?” Shu asks bluntly. “If you die in front of me, I won’t forgive you, you know. And yes, during my tenure in the Academy, I volunteered my skills. Nearly every adult wizard you will meet is wearing one of mine these days, since they all send them back to the Academy to be remade. That’s where I met Mika, he was my apprentice.”

“Just thinking about how to write this damned letter.” Izumi shuts his eyes while he can. If he thinks on it long enough, he can almost imagine Leo’s _very_ soft bed. “How are you with leather? A snog tore my favorite pair of boots last night and I’m irritated.” 

“Snogs are cute,” Mika lowly pipes up, and Izumi cracks open an eye. Yep, the weird, plush thing Mika is still sewing together absolutely resembles one of those snake-dog-things, how _peculiar._ “They’re just mad ‘cause they don’t have anywhere warm t’be right now.”

“They literally want us dead.”

“Maybe they want _you_ dead.”

Izumi lifts a hand in half-hearted surrender. It’s probably moot to mention how they absolutely attacked Arashi, too.

“Give me your boots, I’ll regrow the leather if I have to,” Shu offers. “I assume you like the shape they’re in right now, but if you want to change it, this is the time. What were you doing letting snogs eat your boots? That seems desperately counterproductive.”

Izumi hesitates, then decides he can’t handle this nonsense, and Mika can deal with it as much as he has to deal with him. “The Captain and I checked the perimeter last night, and a snog decided to try and take a chunk out of my foot,” he flatly says. “You’re right, their existence _is_ pretty damned counterproductive.”

A sharp, fluttering wind suddenly cuts through the tent, and Izumi slaps a hand down on his parchment to make sure it doesn’t end up flying away. Mika shifts moodily, his eyes lidded where he still sits, needle moving methodically into stitches that secure his stuffed snog’s head into place. 

Shu looks critically down at the stuffed snog, mentally making a note to fix the atrocious stitching once Mika goes to sleep. The poor creature doesn’t deserve to be crooked forever. “So,” he says, changing the subject away from that, “you finally got to spar against the Captain. You lived, at least.”

Izumi’s mouth twists, even though his eyes are sparkling again. “Yes. To hell with him, he’s not human. I haven’t been so thoroughly beaten since I was first brought to the capitol…ahh, I want to go _again_ , I’ll die if I can’t,” he groans, rubbing a hand across the back of his eyes. “Men like that don’t _exist_ , you know? You said you’ve had rivals, it’s such a rush, isn’t it? Especially when they’re like-minded and can just enjoy the sport of it. Are you allowed to contact other wizards, your friends and such? Or is that monitored heavily, too?” 

“It’s not exactly monitored or forbidden,” Shu hedges, “more that my beloved rivals are...well, they’re busy lately. Yes, that’s it. Many of them are working, many of them are...they’re very busy.”

“Uh huh. Busy. That sounds interesting.” Izumi laces his fingers together. “How many rivals do you _have?_ I thought there weren’t many wizards of your caliber.” 

“Four.”

The voice isn’t Shu’s, but Arashi’s from the tent flap, raising one plucked eyebrow. “Four others that are allowed to wear that color of robes in the whole world, aren’t there, Excellency?”

Shu sets his sewing aside, eyes narrowing. “You’re in my space in a way I dislike, Arashi. What are you doing here?”

“Sorry to disturb, but the Inglings have been sighted. I need one of you to check for Berserkers before they switch.”

Izumi’s interest immediately perks, but it’s Mika that slowly rises, brushing himself off. “I’ll go,” he quietly says, tucking his current snog project into his blanket pile as if he’s tucking it into bed. “Izumi hurts my eyes, anyway.”

Immediately, Izumi sits back defensively, hands up. “Captain, I did not do a single thing.”

“No one cares,” Arashi says curtly, voice very firm, giving Izumi a Look to shut him up. “If he doesn’t want you around, you won’t be around him.”

“I want him around me,” Shu objects. “Izumi, you stay, I want to look at your feet.”

“Mika, darling, you’ll come with me, I’ll be your big strong protector and keep you safe, I promise!”

Izumi opens his mouth to say something else, then shuts up, and bends down to unlace his boots. “Sure, feet it is. I’ve heard mine are rather unique, but you can be the judge.” 

Mika’s lips purse, and he turns, walking out of the tent.

“He doesn’t like you,” Shu says. “Just so you know.”

“ _Really._ I didn’t have the slightest clue.” 

“Sarcasm? Very funny. Anyway, you’ve rubbed him quite the wrong way. He’s too fond of that Captain.” Shu’s lips purse. “He’s getting too close, I’ll need to intervene soon if it continues.”

“Don’t.” Izumi pulls his boots off, setting them aside. “I mean, do what you will, I suppose, but…the Captain’s good at keeping his distance. I asked him about it last night, he knows what he can’t do—until the prince is king, I mean, heh.” 

“You’re very confident that things will change. Yes, I’ve decided I like that,” Shu announces, taking the ragged, torn-up boot and prodding at its deficiencies. “Mika doesn’t understand how it feels to be in love when he isn’t allowed to act on it. It would be better if someone explained that he should cut contact now, before he gets in too deep.”

“If someone tells him that now, isn’t he likely to be incredibly upset, especially because it more or less coincides with my arrival?” Izumi points out, dropping his chin back into his hand. “He’ll think it’s because I stole the Captain away or something. I’m interested in staying alive at this point, you know.” 

“Maybe you should steal the Captain away. It would do the both of you some good.” Shu’s eyes flicker to the side, then he leans in, needle digging into the tough leather. “Did you and the Captain do anything else last night? Tell me in detail.”

Izumi snorts in amusement. “You like the look of us together, huh?” he teases, drumming his fingers against his cheek. “I _did_ sleep in his bed, if you must know.” 

The tip of Shu’s tongue flicks out, running over his lips. “I do very much like the look of you together,” he admits. “Better if he were more beautiful, but you’re enough for the both of you, I suppose. He’s provided these services for us before, but...it’s different, with you. Tell me about it.”

“I thought it might be different. The Captain was worried about how Mika was acting.” Izumi idly wriggles his toes against the ground. “Nothing happened last night, after we left,” he admits. “We were both too tired. That doesn’t mean nothing else will happen, though. I’m…” He makes a face, embarrassed, annoyed with himself. “I’m not _exactly_ used to sleeping alone, to put a fine point on it.”

Shu exhales a breath through his nose, very slowly, as the needle digs into the leather. “You can always tell me about it,” he says, trying to sound unaffected. “I...enjoy stories. Think of me as a captive child hearing stories from an adventurer.”

“That’s a bad way of looking at it. I was just thinking you were a handsome voyeur.”Izumi hesitates, glancing down at the empty parchment in front of him, and he sighs, resigned. “So I have a lover, back in the capitol.” 

Shu curses, shaking his hand out when his needle dives straight into his fingertip. He ignores the welling drop of blood, returning to sewing the next second. “Is he very beautiful? He must not be ugly if you’re his lover.”

“He’s very beautiful.” Izumi leans back into his chair, propping his feet up onto the table. “Small, and cute, like a girl. Just a bit shorter than I am, with…you know the kind of orange the sky turns, just before night rolls in? That’s the color of his hair. Big, green cat eyes, and freckles, because he can’t stay out of the sun.” 

“Ahhh,” Shu breathes, closing his eyes. “I can picture the two of you together, that’s quite a nice image. I assume he’s quite slender.” He opens his eyes again, just to look at Izumi’s feet. Nice. “A warrior? Or a soft noble, or a craftsman? I used to read romance novels, I had a friend who’d smuggle them into the Academy for me. I always loved the nobleman who fell in love with the humble tradesman...”

“You and my mother could have a conversation,” Izumi wryly says, tipping his head back over the chair. “He’s an archer. That’s his specialty, at any rate, that, and music. So all of the nice arms and hands and fingers you’d imagine to come from that, but still slender, and soft in the right places. He likes to fancy himself as something other than a soft noble, heh, but whisper anything dirty to him and the how-dare-you’s and I-would-never’s always come out.” 

“Does he blush prettily when he’s all flustered?” Shu asks eagerly, staying focused on the sewing by sheer force of will. “I’ve always loved watching a redhead blush, it’s so charming. I suppose I can’t blame you for not catering to my forbidden love story, though it is quite rude.”

“Who says it isn’t forbidden love?” Izumi fires back, lips twitching. “He blushes everywhere when he’s flustered, and it’s not like it’s hard. Mm, anyway, remember, I’m a bastard from the countryside, even if I’m a noble. He’s much more important than I. I’ve had to learn all of his schedules perfectly and sneak into his chambers late at night just to be with him. It’s that, or ride out into the wilderness and have him on the ground.” 

“Have you done that?” Shu asks eagerly. “Have you had him on the ground? There isn’t any such thing as too many details, you know. Ah, even though he’s so important, that’s terribly romantic, to have the prince in the wilderness.”

He hears himself talk, and blinks. “Where did that--ah, you’re in harmony with him while you’re talking about your lover. Yes, yes, he is very beautiful, isn’t he?”

Izumi’s mouth snaps shut, and he stares, his own cheeks flushing. “ _Anyway_ ,” he mutters, because there’s nothing to be done now. Wizards are…difficult, aren’t they. “I’m glad he’s to your taste, you should have an accurate picture now.” He shifts restlessly, still flustered now that Shu, apparently, _knows._ “We both know the trails around the palace like the back of our hand, so making a habit of meeting out there to be together is…commonplace. He likes being on his back in the grass, or the leaves, and he always pulls my hair down before he kisses me.” 

A shiver goes through Shu, but he does his best not to show it. He has enough practice keeping such things off his face. “If it helps, I’m considered quite mad, in the Capital,” he says lightly. “So even if I told anyone, no one would believe me. I’m not mad, ha! I merely see things that most people never bother to see. But yes, I like that, do you always penetrate him?”

Telling Shu that he was thinking the exact same thing—everyone probably thinks he’s crazy, no one will believe him—isn’t helpful. Talking more about Leo _is._ “Not every time…but most of the time. What’s your preference for me, hmm? I can talk about either or.” 

“I prefer to hear about you having it done to you, I suppose,” Shu says thoughtfully, “because I’d like to imagine myself in that role. But if you do tell me about the other way, please tell me about how you enjoyed taking care of him, about how you made him feel. I’m quite particular in my tastes, though I try to find enjoyment in all tales.”

“Mm. Then, maybe the time he had me in my own horse’s stall?” Izumi bats his eyelashes. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to make any of this up. He and Leo are just _like_ this. “We intended to go on a ride in the middle of the night—snuck out for it and everything, fully dressed for the cold—but he stuck his cold fingers underneath my shirt and that was the end of it.” Izumi shifts, licking his lower lip absently from the memory. “He had to go on a hunt with his father in the morning, so…it made sense for him to take me instead. Not before I got him ready with my mouth, though. He likes pulling on my hair, I swear he’s the only reason I don’t cut it.” 

Shu sways slightly in his chair, eyes glazing over at the idea of it. He can picture it perfectly. That’s one of the benefits of having his artistic mind’s eye. “Did it hurt, when he took you? Or was he careful, did he take his time, do you like being touched there?”

“He never really takes his time with anything,” Izumi says with a snort, but it’s affectionate when he says it, and his fingers curl distractedly against the arms of his chair. “But it never really…hurts. It aches. Of course I like it, why else would I be with another man?” His next breath escapes slowly, hitching at the very end. “I like it when he takes me because he can leave as many marks as he likes, and I don’t care. I always have to heal his—he can’t look a mess, not the prince—but…I don’t care if I’m bitten up. Just little love bites, especially, where you have to look twice to know what it is.” 

Shu feels his cock stir, and he smiles slightly to himself. It feels so _good_ to hear it from another person, one who understands, even if it’s about someone else. “It sounds like he’s somewhat rough with you. Is that true, or is that just something that romance authors make up? It sounds awfully nice, but at the same time I wonder if it’s something that feels as good in real life as it does in fiction.”

“He’s very…enthusiastic. But it’s good, it’s like a little edge to things, you know?” Izumi shivers, shifting restlessly again. “Especially when it’s just on the edge of too much. I like that feeling, when his cock feels too big or his fingers keep reaching the right spot or it feels too full after…after he comes.” He huffs, and throws an arm over his face, pouting openly now. “Now I’m _really_ horny. Ahh, I hate this, I hate being away from him, I didn’t even get to suck his cock before I left.” 

“You love it.” The words come out like a whisper, and Shu leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes intent. “I can tell. You love sucking on him, and the way it feels in your mouth, don’t you? Does he talk filthy words to you, or touch you like a gentle lover? Which do you prefer?”

When he accepted the task of being a wizard’s bodyguard, Izumi has to admit—things like this were _not_ included in the job description. He’ll take it, though. Gods, will he take it. “Both…but, ah…” Izumi can’t help himself. His fingers slide down his hip, hooking into the lacings of his breeches. “He has a dirty mouth, when he’s riled. I…” He swallows hard. “I’m a picky eater. And I forget to eat sometimes. Sometimes, it…it feels like I’ve saved myself all day just for a drink from him, and…ah…when he mentions things like that when I’m sucking him, or t-tells me I’m like a cat licking up cream…” 

“You can stroke yourself,” Shu breathes, his own hand dropping to his lap. He doesn’t grip himself, doesn’t need to, just rubs slowly against his outstretched palm. All the words go right to his brain and it’s so easy to imagine a handsome face above him, whispering those same words, thumbing at his bottom lip the way the Captain had to Izumi the night before... “Or slide in your fingers. Tell me again how you want to drink from his cock, tell me how it tastes.”

_Let me suck yours!_ Izumi wants to shriek, but that’s not helpful, _nothing_ would be helpful right now, so he gives up, unraveling those laces in short order to tug his breeches down. “It’s, nn…” Izumi bites at his lower lip when his fingers drag down over his own cock, his thumb rubbing over the tip, teasing and tormenting himself when he’s already so hard he could die. “You won’t believe me,” he groans, his head tipping back against the back of the chair. “B-but he always tastes _so_ good. That…that sort of muskiness that e-every man has, but…sweeter, brighter—gods, he calls me his pet cat,” he says with a breathless laugh, his other hand busying itself with pinching a nipple, and he jerks with a hiccup of breath. “So when the Captain did that same thing last night…do I act like a cat so much?” 

“It’s the way you arch your back,” Shu breathes, eyes locked on the flushed red head, the slippery slick surface that he catches a glimpse of each time Izumi’s hand moves. “And the way you mewl. You have a cat’s lean, elegant grace, it’s what I thought of the moment I saw you. Ah, that looks nice, would you like me to call one of my bodyguards to feed you now? He’d be a stranger to you, but I trust them.”

The hand on his nipple leaps up to quickly clamp over his mouth, stifling his startled, gasping whine as he spills suddenly over his own fist. The mere suggestion is enough, which is both embarrassing and arousing, and Izumi feels his face burn. “Don’t—d-don’t call them, I…” He sags back, legs splayed as his chest heaves. “Fuck. S-sorry, I’m quick, when I’m this riled up.” 

Shu makes a dismissive, not entirely pleased noise, removing his hand. “I’m going to take that as a compliment to my oratory skills. Do see that you retain some self-control in the future, you’ve been quite inconsiderate about my needs.”

“It’s a compliment, of course it’s a compliment. God, I’d suck yours,” Izumi huffs unthinkingly, twisting sideways in his chair. “I bet you’d taste amazing.” 

Shu bites his lip, face flushed as he tries to turn back to his work. “I...have no idea. I’ve never tasted such a thing, it’s always sounded quite sinful.”

“You survive on honey rolls, you’d taste sweet.” This is probably breaking laws—he’s not touching Shu, though, and Arashi had certainly spelled out what he’d do to Mika last night, so…maybe it’s fine, maybe. “Sweet, but…still so…” Izumi licks at his lower lip, his lidding as they train onto Shu’s lap. “Masculine. That’s my favorite. Take it out, let me see it.” 

Shu hesitates, though his hand drops immediately to the front of his robes, and his cheeks flush. “You have to promise not to touch,” he warns, voice catching on an inhale. “I don’t know yet if I can trust you not to do that--perhaps I should call someone else in just in case...”

“I won’t touch, I won’t. I didn’t touch the prince for seven years, I think I can control myself for a _day_.” Izumi smacks the arm of his chair. “Take it out, I want to _see_.”

Shu huffs out the ghost of a laugh, then tugs his robes to the side, and delves his fingers lower, fumbling with what looks like incredibly complicated underwear. “Just a moment. You can keep talking.”

_I can seduce even wizards_ , Izumi smugly thinks to himself, and he curls up in his chair, all but vibrating. “Would you like it if I had you in the stables, too?” he breathlessly asks. “Either my mouth on you, or—I know how to make it feel good, when I’m inside.” 

“I’d want you to fuck me,” Shu breathes, yanking at the last layer of ties on his underwear, then wriggling to get something off of his shoulders, a series of straps that extend over his entire body. Something clunks underneath, a hard material hitting the wood of the chair, and Shu grimaces. A few moments later, the robes part, and the flushed red tip peeks out into the air as Shu lets out a whimper. “I’d want you in me, I want you to take me over that table.”

Izumi’s breath catches up in his throat, and he has to _literally_ sit on his hands, pinning them to the chair as he twists in it to get a better look. The reflex to just grab for Shu is strong, especially when it’s a habit that’s become second nature. Girls that want him, men that want him, if they _say that_ , he can’t not touch. 

“So you like being bent over like a whore, too.” Shu had liked the idea of that last night, and Izumi can roll with it. “I bet you’re a natural at it. I bet you’d like it so much that I could make you come on my fingers first, before I even put my cock in you.” 

Shu takes himself in a shaky, uncertain grip, as if he’s rarely wrapped a hand around his cock before. He sucks in a breath, eyes closing for a moment, then opening again to focus on Izumi’s beauty as well as his voice. “I love feeling something inside me,” he breathes, eyes gone flaming pink with arousal, almost glowing. “It’s...the easiest way, it’s like that’s how I’m meant to feel pleasure, you’d help me, wouldn’t you?”

There’s really nothing fair about this, and Izumi exhales a frustrated noise, his eyes lidded, dark when they follow the course of Shu’s hand, over the length of his cock. It’s beautiful, of course, just like the rest of Shu, which seems like such a _waste_. “Yeah, I’d help you,” Izumi murmurs. “I’d get you ready first—long fingers, lots of oil, so you can be nice and slick inside. If you like it as much as you say you do…you’d already be close just from that, wouldn’t you?” 

Shu nods fast, lashes fluttering as he strokes, the motion awkward, but desperate. His other hand comes up to clutch at the table, to give himself something to hang on to, grounding him, keeping him sane. 

His memory flickers, and he remembers the slick delve of fingers inside of him, opening him up, stroking him perfectly from the inside, pressing on everything that had made his vision go dim, and he bites down on his lip. Izumi’s words help, Izumi’s eyes help, but those memories are so bitterly strong that he groans, nodding hard. “I’m already close, just--tell me how you’d put it in me--”

“I wouldn’t be gentle, but you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Izumi’s fingers twitch, and he bites into his own tongue for a moment, distracting himself, lest he grab for Shu’s cock and _help._ “If I just pushed you down over the table and shoved it in you? Gods, I bet you’re tight, but it would fit in you so well, like you’re meant to do nothing but take it.” He sucks in a sharp breath through his nose. “I bet you’re a good boy, when you’ve got a cock in you.” 

Shu’s orgasm takes him by surprise, though the wave building in him is so strong it makes his whole body shake. He spills hot and fast and messy over his hand, over his robes, closing his eyes hard to keep from making a stupid, stupid decision. He pants, hand digging into the table, and only then realizes there’s pink fire roaring into existence all around him, threatening all of his possessions, threatening the very canvas tent. He douses it with a thought, and the fire roars higher, sensing his weakness. 

“Damn you,” he hisses, and clamps down hard, and the fire dies. “Ah. It...got away from me.”

“…T…that’s a word for it,” Izumi manages, wide-eyed and reflexively having scooted back both himself and his entire chair, uninterested in being singed by wizard’s fire. “Sorry, was that too much? Shame if it was, you looked like you enjoyed yourself.” 

Shu shakes his head, looking absolutely flustered. “I...haven’t done that in years,” he admits, staring down at his own knees, watching his cock shrink. “I forgot how sensitive it is.”

“Sounds terrible,” Izumi mutters, snatching up a nearby towel to wipe himself down and then straighten and relace his clothing. “I can barely go a week without, fuck going years without. Can I touch you to clean you up, or is that also not allowed?” 

Shu huffs out a breath. “It would be allowed, if I trusted myself,” he admits. “But if you touched me right now, I’d probably tackle you to the ground. Give me a cloth.”

Izumi wryly tosses a clean cloth over before flopping back. “Put me on your to-do list for when this stupid mess gets overturned, then. I’m fun.” 

“You’re on the list,” Shu confirms, wiping himself down, hissing when it’s too sensitive, and throwing the towel back. “You aren’t number one on the list, though. Ugh, this was a bad idea, this shit takes forever to put back on.”

Izumi gingerly adds to the pile of dirty laundry, not without firmly resisting the urge to pocket it. For reasons, so help him. “Who’s number one? You don’t have to answer that, I just have to ask.” 

Insert slat first, then straps, then laces, Shu thinks, trying to wriggle the slat back into place without chopping off his damn cock. “He’s the man I showed you last night, when we were drinking. The tall one, with the dark hair. Have you ever heard of the King of Demons, from the Shadowlands?”

“That literally looks like the worst contraption I’ve ever seen, what the actual fuck.” Izumi pauses, his eyebrows raising. “Isn’t he from a children’s story or something? I mean, he looked very handsome either way, I can’t blame you.” 

Shu’s smile is thin, but amused. “He’d like to know he’s in children’s stories. He is very much a real person, though. He...was my mentor, when I was at the Academy.” 

Now, the straps, and metal clinks into place, pulled by leather straps secured all up Shu’s waist, then over his shoulders. “This is actually the worst, you’re right. We all wear them. Technically, we’re not supposed to know how to take them off in less than an hour, but there isn’t a thing about clothing I don’t know.”

Izumi’s sigh is a long, put out one. “What a waste,” he says, and means it, but decides to focus on the far _better_ part of the conversation. “Did you and your handsome mentor ever…” 

“Gods, yes.” Shu cinches his straps tightly--they don’t lay right if they’re not tight--and moves on to the blasted laces. “Not the whole way, but...I let him touch me, do things to me. I’ve had his fingers in me, the night before he disappeared. That was probably the best night of my life.”

“No wonder you know what you like so well,” Izumi teases, readjusting to drop his feet down onto the table again and stretch out. “Though I am curious as to what you mean by ‘disappeared.’ Like I said, all I’ve ever heard about that name is from children’s tales, things like that, all to scare us into our beds at night.”

One lace had come free, and Shu fusses with it for a long moment before finally getting the end through the hole. Only five more to go. “He’s...old,” he says finally. “Doesn’t look a day over twenty, but they say he’s nearly a hundred. Sometimes he disappears for years. Sometimes he shows up on a black horse with a demon army at his back in a time of great need. Sometimes he comes to the Academy, so everyone thinks he must have been a wizard at one point. I’ve heard--this is from him, so it’s probably not true, but he did say that the prohibitions against wizards having lovers stem from his actions.”

Izumi laughs outright at that. “Sorry—the way you phrased that, you sounded like a wife sick of your husband’s tall tales,” he snickers. “If he was a great sex demon of some sort, perhaps that’s why you were so smitten. You have a dirty mind already—that’s a compliment, don’t get upset.”

“I wasn’t upset,” Shu says mildly, hands entirely occupied with the laces. They’re quite tricky, and if he gets them wrong and there’s an inspection, they’re doomed. Fortunately, he’s quite adept at such things. “But I was smitten because he understood me like no one else ever has, though his great beauty and appeal didn’t hurt, of course. I suppose you could say he was a guest lecturer at the Academy--they don’t like him, but they cannot refuse him.”

“Sounds like you have excellent taste, then.” Izumi’s head tilts. “If he must’ve been a wizard at some point…do the regular restrictions still not apply? Or is he so good that he just laughs in the face of the king? I can respect that.” 

“That’s the one,” Shu says wearily. “He’s--ah, blast these laces, whoever designed these was a madman--he’s a very dangerous man, though he hates to hurt people. The King’s father tried to apprehend him once, and lost his most valuable men. Now he just sort of pretends Rei doesn’t exist, as long as he doesn’t make too much trouble.”

“Damn, he even has a sexy name,” Izumi jokes, hauling himself upright. “I really don’t stand a chance. Do you need some help? If you tell me what to do, I can follow along—and I won’t touch, I promise.” 

“They’re spelled, if someone who isn’t a wizard touches them when they’re undone, it’ll flare.” Shu’s mouth twists. “It’s almost as if they don’t trust us to make our own decisions.”

“This is literally the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard of,” Izumi bluntly retorts. “At some point, make a list for me of things that don’t make sense, so I can show it to the prince as a high priority note of reform.” 

“If you want my first priority?” Shu asks abruptly. “Of what I think the worst thing for wizards is that I want changed?”

“Yes, and I’ll bring it to the prince-soon-king directly, you have my word.” 

Shu abandons his laces for a moment, facing Izumi directly. “Don’t force us to kill,” he says softly. “Killing with your mind is the most awful thing. It warps you, forever. We should have the option that humans have, to become tradesmen or craftsmen.”

Izumi realizes he’s probably not the best choice of someone that could sympathize with that—blood and battle and killing has always fascinated him in more than one way, but he nods all the same, leaning back in his seat. “Noted,” he quietly says. “I’ll make sure he hears that first…along with every other grievance, of course.”

“Good, it’s a long list, you just asked for the most pressing one.” Shu finally manages to get his laces properly tied with a sigh of relief. “Blasted things. What if his wife disagrees with you, by the way?”

“Then I’ll fuck her and she’ll find me as agreeable as anything ever could be.” 

Shu blinks. “Oh. You like women as well? How odd, I should think that liking women, you’d confine yourself there.”

“Women…are easy,” Izumi settles upon. “I appreciate the way they look, and I like their reactions. They react in ways men typically don’t to advances, you know? It’s cute, when they laugh and blush and try to swat you away while they’re still pulling you close. But don’t take it the wrong way—I still prefer men. That’s just not something you say or advertise in the capital, if you want men to respect you, especially if you look like I do…and especially if you’re trying to cover up a certain relationship.”

Shu nods slowly. “I’ve never been able to camouflage a relationship with another relationship, but I see the appeal. How well does it satisfy you, to make love to the one you don’t really want?”

“Sex feels good, so it feels good,” Izumi says with a shrug. “I don’t think of it as making love, it’s just fucking. It’s making love if it’s…” He flutters a hand, suddenly embarrassed. “With him. Ugh, I’m no good at words when it comes to him.” 

“I like hearing you talk about him,” Shu says, doing up the last of his laces, then tugging his robes back into place, shaking out his hands. “Ah, cramp. You sound so different when you talk about him. It’s like his thoughts when they’re about you.”

“Good to know it’s not one-sided idiocy,” Izumi mumbles, wiping a hand down his face. “I’m supposed to be writing him a letter as well, but gods help me, I’ll just make a fool out of myself.” 

“I’ll write it for you,” Shu volunteers. “My words were prized back in the Academy when the students wanted to write their families.” He pauses, then adds, a little embarrassed, “And a few of the most popular love songs in the Capital in the last few years are my creations, as well. _Every Pluck of the Rose_ was mine.”

Izumi promptly shoves the parchment across the table in Shu’s direction. “He won’t stop humming that damned song. Please, I’m actually begging now.” 

Shu smiles smugly to himself, dunking his pen nib in ink, then starting to write in elegant calligraphy. “I suppose his songs aren’t too terrible either,” he admits, with obviously false bitterness. “His pseudonyms are so silly, I always know it’s him. We used to sing them at Academy, after lights-out.”

“He’d be thrilled to know that. The king thinks it’s a waste of his time, to focus on music at all.” Izumi settles back, folding one leg back into his lap, and digs his fingers into his own foot, kneading away soreness. “Leo—he doesn’t have much of a head for war. It stresses him, no matter how he tries to pretend it doesn’t. Governing, sure, politics, fine, music, definitely, but actual war, fighting, killing…that’ll be on my shoulders.” 

Shu nods slowly, focused on the words, beautiful script flowing like water from his pen, flying across the paper with words of frenetic, all-consuming love that he knows too well. He includes some of the things Izumi has said--the hair the color of twilight, the soft strong archer’s hands, the sparkling green cat’s eyes--to make it personal, but the lurching, tremulous feelings are his own. If only he could write a letter...

But he has. He’s written hundreds of them, but Nazuna never responds. 

It’s a relief to write to a lover instead of a beloved, warming him deep inside. “Then you’ll be invaluable to him, of course. Mika...he doesn’t mind the killing. It’s why he volunteers for the front lines when I’m not...feeling my best.”

“While you’re under my care, you won’t have to kill anyone. I’m here to hone my blade so you don’t have to.” 

Shu’s mouth tenses. “But you’re so beautiful. I’d die rather than seeing something so beautiful get hurt.”

“I can heal myself in the time you’re hesitating about whether or not to kill something for my sake. I’m not going to die.” 

The quill pauses in midair. Shu’s face goes dark with shadow. “Please do not think,” he says quietly, “that because I despise killing I am inept at it. That would be a dangerous miscalculation.”

“I didn’t say that. I said you don’t have to kill anything while I’m here, that’s all. My prince could pick off a line of enemy soldiers better than any archer in this army, but would he want to? No, so he doesn’t have to.” Izumi switches to his other foot, shaking his head. “Do you know how many times I’ve been stabbed or cut or broken a bone? The only scars I have to show for it are my own test subjects.” 

“What’s wrong with your feet?” Shu asks, changing the subject. There’s no need to keep pressing the point that he excels at something he hates. “You rub them often.”

_Everyone thinks he’s mad, no one will believe him._ “………….before my talent for swordplay came to light and I was sent to learn it in the capital, I trained extensively in dance.” Izumi grimaces. “My mother really did desperately want a girl, and I was talented in that, too.” 

Shu’s eyes light up. “Ah, excellent, I knew you had beautiful legs! Milady, show him--”

The little doll is suddenly on the table, and little ball joints turn and dip, launching into a perfect emulation of a ladies’ court dance. “I’ve always adored dancers. I, myself, did some training in that sphere during Academy. You’ll dance for me.”

“I will not.” And because he doesn’t want Shu to set anything else on fire—“Not right now, at any rate. You’ve worn me out, let me rest before my beast of a Captain hauls me off again.” 

“Did I hear my name?” comes an overly-sweet voice from the entrance of the tent. Arashi parts the tent flap, looking weary, splatters of mud and blood crossing his uniform, leading a tired-looking Mika. “Finish up whatever you’re doing, both of you. We’re advancing, and I’ll need you both. The Inglings have more berserkers, and Mika’s tired.”

“So much for rest,” Izumi says, but even as he lowers his feet from his lap with a sigh, he looks eager. “Pass me my boots, Shu, thank you for fixing them.”

Mika, for his part, seems uninterested in letting go of the sleeve of Arashi’s uniform, dangling there as he struggles to keep his eyes open. “Sorry, Master,” he mumbles. “I was tryin’ not to disturb you, but…” 

Shu waves a hand. “You did as well as can be expected, I suppose. Don’t expect me to coddle you--there’s food and drink, of course, and I assume your servants will care for you. It’s very inconvenient that you’re forcing us to go outside when the ground is so wet, you know.”

He straightens his robes, head held high, shoulders squared as he prepares for battle. “How many Berserkers did your archers bring down?”

“Four,” Arashi says, and lifts Mika off his feet with as much effort as he’d use lifting a baby sparrow, setting him gently on his coverlets. “He thought there were more, but they were flash-attacking us, hitting his blind side.”

Izumi laces his boots back up, watching Mika fuss and grumble, and then out of nowhere, lurch up to wrap both arms around Arashi’s neck, possessively latching himself there. “I don’t want you t’ leave,” he breathes, his eyes too bright, glittering strange shades of blue and gold until the colors almost seem to mix and meld together. “Nn, I don’t like this, stay with me.”

“I know, darling, I don’t want to go.” Arashi’s hands are tight on his own belt, knuckles white with the effort it takes to not turn and throw his arms around Mika, holding him tight. “Who do you want me to send in? You can’t be alone right now, and I’ve got to lead the charge, they’re my men.”

“Don’t care,” Mika murmurs, his nails bending from the pressure of biting nearly through Arashi’s uniform until the dark polish on them starts to chip. “Figure it out.” 

Izumi wouldn’t have said a damned thing—this is Arashi’s problem, he firmly resolved to not interfere unless asked after last night, all he can really do is swear he’ll beseech the prince-soon-king about certain laws—except then strange little purple sparks of flame that suddenly flicker to life on the unused parchment paper, and he hastily snatches his finished letter away from that, if nothing else. “I’m going anyway, aren’t I?” he says. “Just give the order and I’ll handle it in your stead, with Shu’s expertise.” 

Arashi’s face wavers. The indecision is clear--Izumi is untrained, he’s young, he isn’t blooded or proven, he isn’t even properly titled, and these are _his men_ , he’s responsible for their lives...

But what good will he do anyone if their wizard burns himself emotionally out? It’s happened before, and left Mika unable to help anyone for a week, nearly comatose. Wizards are delicate, and no one knows it better than Arashi. His eyes flick up, catching Izumi’s. “Any man you lose, you better make sure he wouldn’t have been alive under me,” he says finally, and unbuckles his belt, passing over his sword. “Carry that, they’ll know I gave you my command. And try not to throw your life away to make a point.”

“I’ll keep him safe,” Shu says, as if offended this is even a discussion. “Mika, eat something, it’s an order. Come, Izumi, I’ll show you the Inglings.”

Izumi nods firmly, and unbuckles his own belt, passing his own sword over in turn. “Not that you need it, with those inhuman arms of yours,” he dryly returns, buckling Arashi’s sword into place instead. “How about I don’t lose any men and you treat me to a _proper_ bath later.” 

“I’ll eat, Master,” Mika says, seemingly satisfied by this turn of events, though his grip doesn’t loosen in the slightest. “Arashi is my meal.” 

“I’m leaving before I become a witness to a crime,” Shu mutters, taking Izumi by the elbow and leading him out of the tent.

“The Captain has more self-control than is human,” Izumi says, shaking his head, but he couldn’t care less, honestly, when his heart is already racing. Trying not to come off as eager around someone like Shu who has professed his distaste for killing is _difficult._ “Remember what I said. If I’m around, you don’t have to kill anything.” 

“Yes, that’s all well and good,” Shu says tersely, hardly acknowledging the stablehand that brings his gelding, Midnight. He swings up easily, perched in his saddle like a statue of onyx, proud and strong with a lady’s doll tucked under his arm. “Do you know how to command an army waiting for instructions?”

“I’ve led enough hunting parties,” Izumi says too-cheerfully to belie how his thudding excitement is quickly turning to anxiety, taking Vale’s reins when they’re handed off to him, and pulling himself into the saddle. That’s a new and unpleasant feeling to associate with having a sword at his hip. “And the Captain and I have talked enough strategy since I’ve been here. I’ll figure it out.” 

“Better you than me,” Shu mutters, heading for the front lines. “I hate talking to people. Orders, Acting Captain?”

_Liar, you like talking to me._ Izumi exhales a slow breath to focus, then steels his expression, eyes glowing. The sooner he can hone his blade like all of his boasting, the sooner he can return to Leo. “Stay close to me and identify any berserkers as quickly as possible, for your part. I’m not chasing them myself today.” He pauses. “Also, tell me if I’m being a complete idiot at any given point. I trust you.” 

“And the rest of you!” he calls, spurring Vale forward, unbothered by the surprised mumurs of the soldiers— _his_ soldiers, right now. For the sake of his prince, _no_ failure is an option. “Lay your trust in me today, and I’ll see that you’re all alive tomorrow!” 


	6. Chapter 6

Arashi fully intends to throw a celebratory party after the first engagement. It’s what he’s famous for, after all, along with the utter destruction of any Ingling troop with the poor luck to stumble upon his army. However, the first engagement is hardly over when the horns ring out again--then again--then _again_ , until weeks have passed, and his army is battered and exhausted, taking heavy casualties from Berserkers and weaponized snogs alike. 

Finally, the waves dry up, but something feels wrong. Arashi calls on Shu to speak long distances, and within a day, his prescient worst fears are confirmed--the Inglings have started to try the Northern routes for the first time in a generation.

In a desperate move that most people would call insane, Arashi leaves the main infantry of his army to guard the Southern route, then swings the rest up North through enemy territory, galloping at breakneck speed through unfriendly terrain, all the way calling back that they’d be the stuff of songs and stories should they survive the morning. 

The battle is hard, bitter, and finally, over. The Inglings fight as if possessed, and by the time the horns sound a victory, not a single Ingling survives. Arashi’s men, exhausted and battered, can’t make the long trek home without risking certain death at a single other engagement, but fortunately, Izumi’s estate is close by.

And what would a celebration be without a party?

Music rises riotously through the country courtyard, with food vendors bringing out plate after plate, musicians plucking out jaunty tunes from the stage, jesters juggling, mothers and fathers attempting to shove their young daughters towards Arashi’s men. Northern country estates, no matter how well-appointed and regal, rarely play host to a hundred eligible city bachelors, and everyone is clearly taking advantage of the opportunity. 

Arashi, for his part, enjoys watching Izumi transform from the disaffected-yet-arrogant young knight to a...well, a Mama’s boy, from the way he reverts to a cheerful, but sensitive man rather than the newly-battle-proven warrior Arashi has seen recently. More amusing, however, is watching Izumi’s face change upon catching sight of a lovely young man sidling up to said mother, kissing her hand, then attempting to tug her onto his lap. “There’s no way the lady of the house could be someone so young and charming,” he murmurs, sleepy eyes glittering with sudden enjoyment. “Milady, let your humble servant here be your slave, while we’re in town. Here, I’ll start by serving as your pillow, you can sit on me...or I’ll rest my head on your pretty thighs, heh.”

Izumi isn’t yet drunk. 

He wishes he were. It would make it much easier to dismiss a number of happenings in favor of curling up around the fire in the arms of a woman (or his Captain, as it may be)—or, since he’s home, and on his absolute best behavior, politely smiling and not flipping skirts.

This, however, he cannot ignore. 

“Oi.” Izumi’s voice is already sharp, hand on the hilt of his sword as he steps close, his eyes narrowed as he glares the man down. How unfortunate that the man is to his taste, long-legged and beautiful, all dark hair and pale skin, but none of that matters when he’s a _rogue_ trying to _touch_ his mother. “ _You_. Are you trying to insult the North by _daring_ to lay your hands upon the Lady of this house? Release her immediately.” 

Sir Ritsu, ostensibly of the West, gives Izumi a sleepy smile, and kisses his mother’s hand again. “Ahh, apologies, Milady, your fine strong son is here to put pause to our forbidden love. Doubtless he has found me another way to entertain myself, after my men bled for the North this day...”

“Izumi, take your hand off your sword immediately,” his mother commands, eyebrows raised, obviously demanding compliance. “You shouldn’t even be wearing that in the Revelring, I’m going to box your valet’s ears.”

Izumi looks stricken, and his first protest strangles in his throat. “Mama—you can’t trust any of these men to preserve your honor!” he insists, his fingers tightening against the hilt of his sword before he begrudgingly releases it, but not without exhaling a thoroughly frustrated sound about it. “Stop touching her immediately, I’ll entertain you with a duel if you keep this up.” 

“Okay,” Ritsu says with a shrug. “Maaaaao,” he calls into the crowd. “I need my sword, some country boy is trying to duel me!”

“I’m not ‘some country boy’, how _dare you._ I’m—“

It barely takes a second before a rather haggard-looking young man appears, his red hair tousled and pinned back from his face. Izumi doesn’t remember him. “Absolutely not!” Mao insists. “Not tonight, Ritsu! My deepest apologies, Milady, Milord, for his behavior, whatever it is. Ahhh, can you not do this tonight? I’m already so busy…” 

“If he touches my mother again, I’ll skin him alive,” Izumi flatly says, and Mao heaves a long, aggravated sigh.

“Is _that_ what you were doing? Ritsu, honestly…” 

Ritsu flops down onto a cushion, then grabs Izumi by the wrist, tugging at him. “Come keep me company instead of your pretty mother, then. Maao, help me kidnap him, he’s pretty and I killed a _lot_ of Inglings...”

Mao wipes a hand down his face, thoroughly exasperated. “No. I’m not helping you kidnap anyone, that’s abnormal. I—“ He hesitates as if he hears something, and something like stricken panic flickering across his face, and he already starts backtracking. “Behave yourself!” he hurriedly says, bowing once to Izumi’s mother. “Sorry again about him, Milady! I’ll be back to check on you, Ritsu, behave yourself!” And then he’s gone, flitting off to who knows where.

Izumi’s mouth opens and closes, and he feels his face flush before he can help himself. “I—h—Mama, please, let me deal with this _idiot_ , step away.” 

“I couldn’t care less, silly boy,” she says with a sigh, and slaps him affectionately upside the head. “Be polite to your guests, and especially the ones who brought you home safe to me. I can take care of myself, _honestly_. As if I’m some soft Southern lady...” She shakes her head as she walks away, curtseying to the officers, thanking them for their service.

Ritsu yawns hugely, kicking out his legs and patting his lap. “Your reputation is such a lie, heh. Everyone says you’ll lie with anyone, but you haven’t even looked at me, and I’m the prettiest one here.”

‘The ones who brought you home safe to me’—you make it sound like I’m a maiden they had to rescue and bring home, not a knight that slaughtered dozens and led an army! Izumi scowls after his mother before he looks back at Ritsu, heaves a sigh, and drops into his lap. “Pour me a glass of wine.” 

_Ritsu grabs a bottle, face lighting up, and shakes it. “Want to drink it out of my mouth? Or should I pour it into yours? Ahh, you’re pretty, even if you’re mean.”_

“I’ll drink it out of yours. How have I not seen you in camp before?” Izumi demands, begrudgingly softening underneath the praise. “I would have noticed someone like you. You _and_ your friend, neither of you were riding with us.” 

Ritsu blinks slowly, letting his long lashes flutter down. “I’m always around when the Captain needs me,” he equivocates blithely. “I was there the last few days, up here. I saw you running like hell to get to that Berserker yesterday. Never seen anyone do that besides the Captain, heh.”

“That’s because we’re both fucking insane.” Izumi eyes him a moment longer, firmly concludes he’s _still_ never seen him before, but lets it go. He’s _very_ pretty, and those long, dark eyelashes are distracting. “So even if I haven’t heard of you, you’ve heard of me, huh?” 

“Mm, yep. In the Capital.” Ritsu’s eyes blink slowly again, and he pours a huge gulp of wine into his mouth, then grabs Izumi by the shirt, pulling him close for a kiss, letting the wine flow between their lips.

“In the—mmn.” Izumi’s eyes flutter and his mouth parts, a noisy gulp following as he swallows that wine. A trickle of wine escapes down his chin, and his tongue flicks out to lap it up. “All the way in the Capital? Are you a knight?” 

Ritsu leans in to lick the last trickle of wine off of Izumi’s mouth, eyes burning a warm crimson that looks almost inhuman in the fire’s reflection. “Something like that,” he murmurs, mouth curling up at the edges. “Do I have to keep giving you wine like this, or will you give me your mouth for fun instead?”

“One more mouthful. Ahh, you have a nice tongue,” Izumi mutters, immediately going against what he just said to lurch up and kiss Ritsu again, shivering in spite of the heat of his mouth. It’s been too long since he’s grabbed at another man that was especially clean and sweet-smelling, and he’s willing to ignore a number of questionable things about Ritsu because of that. At least at home in the North, he doesn’t have to worry about any sideways glances for kissing another man.

Ritsu makes a pleased little noise in his throat, and pours another trickle of wine over their joined mouths, laughing low as he sucks on Izumi’s tongue. His hand immediately drops, trailing down then squeezing Izumi’s ass, kneading and squeezing. “And you’ve got a nice ass,” he murmurs, and nibbles on Izumi’s lower lip, unwilling to stop kissing even for a moment.

“Ah, so you two have met,” Arashi says from nearby, obviously amused.

Izumi extends a middle finger without breaking away from Ritsu’s mouth, and if anything, just kisses him more deeply, arching in his lap when Ritsu’s hands grip and knead at him. When he finally does break away, it’s with a ragged inhale and a sticky strand of saliva on his tongue, which snaps when he licks at his lips. “If you need something from me right now,” Izumi lowly rasps, “rethink, Captain.” 

“Northerners are so immoral, aren’t they, Tsukasa? Are you planning on lifting your skirts for that stranger in the middle of a party, where your mother is? For shame!” Arashi laughs. 

Ritsu looks over, then beckons to Arashi, and the young man standing stiffly next to him. “Kasa, Rashi, c’mere, we’ll all have fu~un...”

“Be good, Ritsu, these two haven’t even met yet,” Arashi chastises.

Izumi scowls, not entirely interested in this interruption until Ritsu’s vague invitation. He tilts his head to get a better look at the young man standing next to Arashi. He’s probably not any older than himself, perhaps younger, and the wary expression on his cute, heart-shaped face makes him look younger still, no matter how he’s neatly, formally dressed even at a party like this. “Introductions would be good, actually,” Izumi mutters, patting a hand against Ritsu’s chest. “Thank god you know this one, Captain, I was starting to think I was being seduced by a demon.” 

Tsukasa’s cheeks flush at the scene, and he folds his arms across his chest after pushing a strand of deep red hair out of his face. “Sir Ritsu has that sort of personality,” he says forthrightly. “He should have more propriety than this. Ah, Sir Tsukasa of the Suou family, at your service.”

_Rich noble boy._ Izumi can tell with a glance, and his gaze flicks up to Arashi again. “I’m seriously not getting up for work right now, you can’t make me.” 

Arashi laughs, grabbing the bottle of wine from Ritsu and taking a swig, then passing it over to Tsukasa. “Work? Now? For shame, this is a _party!_ I just wanted to introduce you to these fine young men. Ritsu, thanks for beating me to the punch.”

“Oh. This is the man you’ve been talking about?” Ritsu asks, feigning ignorance. He squeezes Izumi’s ass, kneading it slowly. “Zumi, you should find us a quiet place where we can all...talk. It’s your estate, isn’t it?”

“If you want me to move, you’re going to _need_ to stop grabbing my ass like that,” Izumi hisses, his mouth already going to Ritsu’s neck. 

Tsukasa hesitates, then sighs, grabbing the bottle of wine and taking a drink far longer than Arashi. “When you said we were going to meet and talk,” he helplessly points out, “this is _not_ what I envisioned, Captain.” 

“He likes to act shy,” Arashi says, amused, “but he knows there are only two ways to swear an Old Blood Pact, and I don’t want to do the way that hurts.”

“I do,” Ritsu says with a lazy, predatory grin, fingers digging in deep. 

“Ritsu, sweetheart, my way means sex.”

“Oh, that’s better.”

“An old what now?” Something that weird makes Izumi lurch back. He’s not drunk yet, for better or for worse, and he eyes Arashi for a moment before forcing himself to climb to his feet. “My chambers,” he says, flipping the keys around on his finger. “Then there won’t be any interruptions.”

Tsukasa, at least, looks relieved. Izumi doesn’t ask questions until he grabs another bottle of wine on his way back into the estate itself, leads the way to his chambers, and unlocks the door, letting the four of them inside. “What,” he asks, uncorking the bottle as he drops himself onto the foot of his bed, which is as thankfully large and clean and well-cushioned as he remembers it, “are you planning, you ugly harlot.” 

“Planning to rip your tongue out if you call me ugly again, how incredibly rude!” Arashi says, eyebrows raised. “Second of all...remember when you told me about your goal, about the Kingsguard? These are the men I told you I was going to recruit. Are these chambers safe to talk, completely, without being overheard?”

“They’re safe from magic,” Ritsu pipes up, flopping back on Izumi’s bed. “I dunno about human listeners, I can never tell. But there’s no spells.”

Izumi spares a sideways glance to Ritsu, suspicious all over again now that there’s talk of magic being thrown about, and he takes a drink directly from the wine bottle. “No one in this estate is going to lurk anywhere near my room, especially during a party like this,” he says. “I’m interested now, go on.” He squints at Tsukasa. “ _You_ look familiar, at least.”

“My family is very old,” Tsukasa offers up. “And directly involved with a number of affairs in the capital, you see. The direct court influences of the Suou family are—“

Izumi’s eyes glaze. “You need to be drunk,” he says, grabbing Tsukasa by the arm and shoving the bottle of wine into his hold. “I’m begging you.” 

“Kasa should always be drunk,” Ritsu agrees. 

“Right. The point is,” Arashi says carefully, “these two are, ah, talented enough that I think they could help form the corps of your Kingsguard. They’re also highborn enough that they won’t raise eyebrows should you appoint them. And _most_ importantly, they’re both, ah--”

“We hate the king,” Ritsu says flatly, reaching over to grab the other bottle, uncorking it with very sharp teeth. “So if it’s ever a war between his loyalists and the prince, we’re on your side.”

Tsukasa still seems hesitant about drinking, so Izumi takes all of this new information in, pulls the wine bottle back, and takes a long drink before grabbing Tsukasa’s face and kissing the wine into his damned mouth. It’s a long moment before Tsukasa rips himself away, red-faced and breathing hard, and Izumi leans back, licking his lips. “You,” he says, crooking a finger in Arashi’s direction, “are a good man. Come here.” 

This time, Tsukasa actually pulls the wine bottle from him, and takes a long drink as he drops onto the foot of the bed next to Izumi. “His Highness is amazing, isn’t he?” he sighs, the flush to his cheeks remaining. “I mean—I’ll never forgive him for crushing me in every archery tournament in the capital, but—“

“ _That’s_ where I’ve seen you! Gods, this is a small world. You’re a very bad—“

“I am _not_ , before you say another word. I…I have performance anxiety.”

Arashi strides forward, tugging off his shirt and shoving Izumi back against the bed. “We’re all going to have ourselves a little bonding ceremony,” he breathes, firelight flickering in his eyes. “Ritsu is doing the honors. Before you agree, bear in mind that while darling Tsukasa and I just prefer the good boy over the bad dad, Ritsu has some other...interests at heart.”

“Up to you,” Ritsu assures Izumi. “I’ll always hate the king no matter what, and I wouldn’t betray Arashi ever. But I can help you a _lot_ if you do some stuff for me, too.”

Izumi is fairly certain this has been initiated in such a way that he has no _choice_ but to agree, and he resents that, to a degree…but that degree is a very small one, because at _least_ Arashi has the decency to offer up men that are extremely attractive. “You can entertain me with stories about why you hate him so later,” he breathes, sinking back into the mattress, reaching out a hand for Ritsu even though his eyes rake unabashedly down Arashi’s bare chest. “And I’ll only ask you one question now. Will anything you ask of me directly threaten the prince’s life?” 

“No,” Ritsu says immediately, and his other hand moves, curling around Arashi’s thigh. “I swore like this to Rashi already. I just...mmm...want some items...cared about.”

“You’ll like them,” Arashi assures Izumi, and climbs onto the bed to straddle him, looking down. “Untie my laces. They’re about magicians having more freedom, things like that. Ritsu’s invested.”

“No fair, Rashi, share with me.”

“I’ve got him down here first, you take his mouth. Tsukasa darling, why don’t you come closer and give big sister a kiss?”

Tsukasa opens his mouth to clearly argue a point, then snaps it shut again, and sets the wine bottle down. He reaches up, pulling free the first few buttons of his collar before he does as he’s told, catching Arashi’s mouth with his own, surprisingly far hungrier, more aggressive than Izumi would have thought from a prissy, clearly city-born noble. 

“…Give me your mouth again first, I like the way you kiss,” Izumi manages, heat rising to his own face from the sudden sweep of arousal that rakes through him. He grabs a handful of Ritsu’s shirt with one hand, reaches for the laces of Arashi’s breeches with the other, and shudders, feeling how hard Arashi already is when his fingertips just barely skim lower. “I’m _all_ about magicians having more freedom, sounds good.” 

“Then you’ll like everything I want,” Ritsu assures him, and leans down to kiss Izumi deeply, as if he’s trying to climb inside, as if he’s determined to suck out Izumi’s soul. His tongue is hot, searching, and his teeth are sharp, demanding. Crimson flames flicker into being, tiny pinpricks that start to revolve around the four of them, first randomly and then in a pattern, something esoteric and obviously powerful.

Arashi hums happily around Tsukasa’s tongue, hips rubbing up against Izumi’s hand, his own hands traveling down to splay over Tsukasa’s chest. “You’re so handsome,” he murmurs, eyes dark with lust as he grinds down on Izumi’s cock, feeling the friction between them. “My brave strong young man, I can’t wait to watch you and Izumi. Here, darling, you want me to take care of you?”

Izumi dazedly tastes blood, and it’s the only thing that eventually makes him pull back from Ritsu’s mouth, panting, pupils dilated. Magic is unimportant and easily ignored if he’s going to keep being kissed like this—and thoroughly pampered, so it seems. “Pay attention to _me_ ,” he demands of Arashi, even as he’s grabbing for the front of Tsukasa’s breeches as well, and—“Oh.” He swallows audibly. So much for performance anxiety. That’s _much_ larger than he expected. “Oh. You’re going to give that to me right now,” he insists, lurching half-way up to better get at Tsukasa’s lacings, eyes glittering greedily.

Tsukasa falters, obviously unused to someone actively grabbing for him, and he hesitates visibly as he reaches to still Izumi’s hands. “W—S-Sir Izumi, you’re—“ 

“ _Just_ Izumi, I’m not a damned knight, and don’t you dare act shy about this now. Arashiii,” Izumi implores instead, licking at his lips. “We could always see if both will fit. Ah, give me more wine first, though.” 

Arashi laughs, tipping the wine into Izumi’s mouth, then letting his clever fingers make quick work of Izumi’s own laces. “Let’s strip him!” he crows, and Ritsu agrees only too readily, boots and shirts and trousers suddenly flying to all corners of Izumi’s room. “Ahhh, you’re so beautiful naked, Tsukasa, don’t you just want to touch him? I do, I’m _going_ to, where’s your oil?”

Ritsu kicks off his own breeches, then shoves a finger in Izumi’s mouth, followed by a second. His nails are sharp, tracing over Izumi’s tongue, shoving in and out. “Who needs oil? I’m just going to get him nice and wet like this, maybe with my tongue...”

“No way, your tongue is way too long, it’s weird! Ah, found it!”

A couple very slick fingers prod Izumi’s hole, sliding in unrepentantly fast, and a tiny red flame flares, then seems to absorb into their skin, a flash of warmth shooting through the place they’re touching. Arashi ignores it as if he can’t see it, and twists his fingers. “You like having something inside you, don’t you, darling? Ritsu, let him talk.”

Ritsu obeys, sliding out his fingers and moving to kiss Izumi’s neck instead, letting wet fingers seize a nipple.

Izumi arches with a gasp, his tongue tripping over itself even when it’s finally freed, sticking out to wet his lower lip as he tries to pick out words. Easier said than done when Arashi’s fingers are long and familiar and accurate, making him groan and spread his trembling legs wider. “I..ahh, fuck—“

He almost had a coherent sentence in mind, but Tsukasa’s fingers unrepentantly grab at his hair, freeing it from its tie, and the swift jerk of his head to the side brings his flushed cheek to drag against the side of Tsukasa’s cock. Unconfined from his breeches, it looks even larger than it had felt, and Izumi’s eyes flutter hard, one grasping hand pawing for it as he desperately squirms down against Arashi’s hand. “Please,” he breathes. “N…nothing…nothing feels better than that, I…”

“You have the prettiest mouth I’ve ever seen on a man,” Tsukasa mutters, awed, and he swallows as Izumi twists his head further to the side, pink tongue eagerly darting out to lick at the tip of his cock and taste the precome beading there. 

“That’s because Izumi isn’t really a man,” Arashi breathes, eyes alight as he slides in another finger, knowing just where to touch, just how to stroke, knowing he’s driving Izumi crazy. That’s one nice thing about having Izumi nearby recently; he hasn’t had to go after partners nearly as much, not when Izumi is more than willing, he’s desperate. That much is obvious from watching the loving way he laves Tsukasa’s thick cock, though Arashi can’t blame him. Tsukasa is a gorgeous young man, and more than well proportioned. Still, he knows the way to drive Izumi insane, and he curls his fingers just so, murmuring, “Just treat him like a pretty girl we picked up to have fun with for the night. Tsukasa, your parents buy you girls sometimes, right? That’s all this is, just a lovely lady treating you like an ice lolly.”

Ritsu runs a finger over Izumi’s hole, sliding in alongside Arashi’s. “She’s got a nice pussy,” he says, mouth fastened to Izumi’s neck, then his ear, nipping and sucking. “But you can tell it’s not that tight. We can definitely both fit in there. I bet she’d like it.”

Izumi’s eyes roll back into his head, a rasping, desperate noise leaving his throat before Tsukasa’s thumb is on his lower lip, pushing into his mouth, prying it further apart before the head of his cock sinks inside, dragging over his tongue. A hiccuping breath makes his chest heave, and Izumi squirms, twisting on the bed to get at a better angle to both suck Tsukasa’s cock, have those fingers deep inside of him, _and_ let Ritsu’s mouth mark up his neck in a way that makes him shiver and thrash. 

“Even…even the girls they’ve paid for aren’t like this.” 

The fingers would be enough—Arashi’s _good_ at that, so are Ritsu’s, and Izumi knows he’s easy, besides—but it’s the words and the way he’s touched and pulled around so casually that makes his cock throb and twitch. Tsukasa’s fingers press harder against his scalp, pulling his head down, making his jaw ache and his throat desperately work to swallow, and Izumi nearly chokes as he comes with a groan muffled in his throat. He grabs helplessly at Tsukasa’s wrist, squeezing until he’s allowed to come up for air, gasping and flushed dark pink, his lips swollen as Tsukasa’s cock rubs against them still. “S…sorry—don’t stop,” he moans, twisting and trying to grab for Ritsu’s cock as well now. “That’s _so_ good, what the hell…” 

Ritsu crawls forward, letting his hand slide out as he leans up, kissing on Tsukasa’s neck. The head of his cock bumps against Tsukasa’s, rubbing against Izumi’s lips, red fires igniting, then absorbing all around them. “Share that pretty hole with me, Kasa,” Ritsu breathes, already dripping, already so hard he hurts. “If it’s slutty enough, there’s gonna be room for both of us...look how messy she is already, your parents would never hire you such a low class harlot, would they?”

“You’re all too much for my maiden heart,” Arashi says with a sigh, and the next thing Izumi feels is the blunt head of Arashi’s cock, shoving sudden, hard, and thick inside of him. “Aahhh...so sweet, the way you’re sucking me in, darling. Ritsu, Tsukasa, be nice, I don’t think she’s had anything to eat all day.”

Tsukasa shudders, the dark violet of his eyes hazy, a little unfocused when he grabs at Izumi’s chin as his head lolls uselessly, stifling the broken, whimpering keen that leaves Izumi’s throat when he pries his mouth open wider. “Maybe not, but…I’ve never had one so…” He swallows hard, watching the way Izumi’s tongue flicks out almost reflexively, openly eager. “Desperate.” 

Izumi sags into the bed, his thighs trembling, squeezing tight around Arashi’s waist. His body clenches down, slick and hot and welcoming, and he nearly comes again, just from how _good_ Arashi’s cock feels inside of him right now, making everything achy-tense-shivery-sort of euphoric but teetering on the edge of too much and ah, fuck, he’s going to die like this. “Nnn. Let me…let me t-talk, just a second…” he manages, twisting his head to the side, clinging to the last bit of sense he has, even as he drags a hand down over his own stomach, fingers toying with the slick mess there. “Kasa—if you don’t get hard again fast, don’t you _dare_ come in my mouth right now.”

Tsukasa freezes, uncertain, and his fingers pause where they curl into Ritsu’s hair, pulling him in for a kiss—because that tongue really is unfair, he’s figured that out. “I—“

“Help,” Izumi insistently demands of Arashi, grabbing at him as he says it, deliberately squirming down onto his cock even though it makes his body tighten up and shiver. “I meant it, before. I—please.” 

Arashi’s eyes flicker in the dancing flames, and he nods slowly. He doesn’t stop rocking forward into Izumi’s ass, he _can’t_ , not when it’s squeezing him so sweetly it feels like coming home, but he does usher Ritsu and Tsukasa off of Izumi’s chest, then haul Izumi up to sit on his lap, facing him. “Come up behind him, Tsukasa,” he urges, taking the opportunity to kiss Izumi deeply, enjoying his mouth, letting Izumi drape forward to lean on his shoulder. “He wants it, so come give it to him. Don’t be shy, it isn’t the first time you’ve touched my pretty cock.”

Ritsu sits on the bed, watching hungrily, wrapping a hand around himself. “If you leave me out, I’ll wait my turn,” he warns, eyes slit like a cat’s. “But I won’t be nice when you’re all used up and sloppy.”

Tsukasa’s mouth goes dry, even as he crawls forward as if he’s connected by a string, or maybe one of those flames that drags him in. “There’s…there’s no way,” he whispers breathlessly, even though the idea makes his cock ache, and he squeezes his fingers around the base of it tightly to keep himself under control. His other hand drags down Izumi’s arched back, the tight curve of his ass, down to where he and Arashi are already connected. “He’s already so full…” 

Izumi’s nails dig into Arashi’s back, a weak, slow kneading as he drapes against Arashi’s chest. He hisses through his teeth at Tsukasa’s touch, his own cock twitching as it rubs against Arashi’s stomach. “It’s fine—ahh…god, your hands are soft, that’s nice…”

Encouraging Tsukasa even a _little_ is a choice Izumi almost regrets. Almost, even though just the press of the tip of his cock makes Izumi whimper, trembling and overeager. When Tsukasa presses close from behind, slipping in a finger to help open him further for his _much_ larger cock, Izumi gulps, and the sudden, added stretch of the thick, dripping head as it pushes inside makes him quake and moan and curse into Arashi’s neck, nails raking red lines down the hard muscle of his back. 

Tsukasa has the right idea in grabbing for the oil again, tipping it out over his cock before he shoves up with a breathless grunt, and Izumi chokes on his own breath, his thighs struggling to spread wider as if that, somehow, will make it easier. It doesn’t, of course, and his head lolls, his muscles weak and boneless. Mindlessly, he reaches out, not thinking at all about the consequences of wanting Ritsu anywhere near him right now, too, because he’s _not_ thinking, unable to, really, when he’s so full he can’t see straight, his cock aching, every nerve in his body twitching and singing. 

Arashi lets out a whole string of muffled curses, all bitten into Izumi’s hair as he gathers him close, gasping for breath when the stretch is so _tight_ , when Izumi feels like he can’t possibly take this much, when Arashi can feel him dry-sobbing and groaning on the two of them, stretched impossibly wide, stuffed impossibly full. “Look how much she likes it,” he manages to grunt out, grabbing Izumi by the hair, tilting his head forcibly back. “L-look at this bitch--cheeks all flushed, tears running down her pretty face--look at this, she can’t even close her mouth, she’s so hungry to drink from everyone’s cock--you’re going to take it all in your belly, right, sweetheart? Then we’re all going to come in here, and you’re going to swallow it all and ask for more, right?”

“Not me,” Ritsu breathes, wrapping a hand around himself, stroking from base to tip, eyes locked on Izumi’s arched back, down to where he’s stretched so far it looks for sure like he’s going to tear. “I want to come on her face. She’d look so pretty like that, right?”

“Mm...maybe...” Arashi’s vision nearly whites out when Izumi is so _tight_ , but he can’t help but move, hips jerking urgently forward and _up_. “I don’t think this slut will be satisfied until she takes a hundred men, will she?”

Words stick in Tsukasa’s throat, but that doesn’t stop him from closing his hands tightly around Izumi’s lean waist, squeezing tightly as he uses that grip to hold him in place, making it _so_ much easier to thrust up no matter how impossibly tight it is. It barely feels like he can move, but it’s almost better just having to rock up inside, grinding in slowly. “I think she likes us too much, Captain,” he rasps, dragging his fingers up to pinch and pull at a _very_ hard nipple. “If we’re smart, we should just—just buy her outright, and keep her for ourselves.”

The noise Izumi makes is a low, whining mewl more than anything else. He feels himself drooling, feels his cock slowly, agonizingly dripping, like he just can’t _stop_ coming when both Arashi and Tsukasa keep pulling him and shoving up into him. It’s too tight, far beyond too much, and his head flops into the pull of Arashi’s hand before Tsukasa’s fingers shove their way into his mouth again. They taste bitter—probably dragged through the mess on his own stomach, but it doesn’t matter—and Izumi sucks on them hungrily, his eyes sliding dazedly over to Ritsu, watching him and how his hand pulls at his cock.

“See,” Ritsu says softly, dangerously, “she really can’t get enough. Look--she wants me, see? Even when you two are wrecking her so bad she won’t be able to sit down for a week, she’s trying to get me to fuck her, too.”

“Wait your turn,” Arashi groans, slamming in deep, hoping Tsukasa has his own rhythm, because he’s definitely got one now, rocking up deep into Izumi’s body as red lights settle into their skin. “Tsukasa...ahhh, you’re young, you don’t...understand yet,” he breathes, keeping the fantasy going, petting Izumi’s hair even as he thrusts in hard, fast, and brutal. “You don’t want to keep a bitch like this. You just use them until they’re all loose and satisfied--then get another one, right?”

“Mm, I’m gonna take her when you’re done, though,” Ritsu reminds him, glowering. “Hurry up and come, you’re both awful. I’m gonna come over there and start doing Kasa soon if you don’t let me in.”

Izumi feels his vision start to blur at the edges. Between every powerful thrust of Arashi’s cock into him is Tsukasa’s, thick and hard and pressing in deep, and there’s no _escape_ from either of them, not when he’s trapped between the two of them, clinging to Arashi’s back, Tsukasa’s breath hot against his ear, every shove and grind making him whimper. 

Tsukasa comes first, and _feeling_ that makes Izumi sob, his nails clawing little holes into Arashi’s back. It’s slick, and that helps when Tsukasa slams up hard, but it _stings_ , making him twist and whimper and groan, helplessly trembling when he tries not to move on his own too much, trusting Arashi to keep him steady and pull him where he will. Tsukasa curses into his hair, and his fingers aren’t gentle as they hold him down onto his cock, every little ragged breath that escapes against Izumi’s skin hot and overstimulated. _Too much_ , Izumi weakly thinks, and he paws a hand up weakly into Arashi’s hair, pulling, tugging. _Please, please, please._

“There’s a good girl, that’s it,” Arashi murmurs, and strong arms lift Izumi off of Tsukasa, yanking him almost unbearably close for Arashi’s last few powerful thrusts, until the slick mess inside of Izumi grows slicker, fuller, and Arashi groans into his shoulder. “Ahhh...your mouth isn’t the only place you’re thirsty, is it, sweetheart? What a good girl, you made me come so hard...”

Long-nailed fingers trail down Izumi’s back, Ritsu’s eyes glowing in the dark of the room. “You two had your fun. Gimme, I want to be mean to him.”

Tsukasa collapses back into the mattress, panting, overstimulated, and Izumi whines where he slumps against Arashi’s chest, trembling, twitching, feeling every slick drop Arashi’s cock pumps into him. His muscles squeeze and clench down on their own accord, and Izumi swears his vision nearly whites out, a broken groan torn from his throat. “Be mean to me,” he wholeheartedly agrees, even if his voice is breathy and hiccuping with every strained inhale. He lists to the side, grabbing at Ritsu, his own gaze too-bright. “You…you must be starving, you should b-bite me…”

Where that comes from in the recesses of his mind, who the hell knows. Izumi dazedly assumes it’s because of those sharp teeth he’d felt on his tongue, but he doesn’t _really_ care. 

“Ritsu, no!” Arashi’s voice is suddenly panicked, but Ritsu hisses, a not entirely human sound, and Izumi is snatched off of Arashi by strong hands, yanked to the other side of the bed. 

“He invited me!” Ritsu snarls, eyes flashing red. The next second, fangs (far longer than they’d looked) flash, sinking deep into Izumi’s neck, and Ritsu’s whole body shudders as if he hasn’t had a drop of water for a year then suddenly discovered a waterfall.

Arashi no longer looks delightfully sated, but fraught with concern, eyes locked on them. “Remember your promise, Ritsu, _please_...”

Tsukasa and Arashi both look _so_ concerned, but Izumi just groans, his head rolling back as he lifts a trembling hand to drag it through Ritsu’s hair. The bite hurts, sort of, but only in the vaguest of senses when he can feel the blood running from his neck, being lapped up and sucked down. That’s a fair bit more blood than he remembers losing from any battle recently, but, ah…that’s probably fine…

“That’s too long, isn’t it?” Tsukasa worriedly presses. “We should—“

Izumi flutters a hand, annoyed. “Don’t interrupt, he waited for the two of you,” he mumbles, dragging his nails slowly against Ritsu’s scalp. “’s not nice to make me focus while I’m feeling good, I didn’t want you to be _that_ kinda mean…”

Slowly, after another agonizing second, Ritsu withdraws, licking his lips, eyes far too bright to be human, shuddering from his feet to the top of his head. “Sorry,” he mumbles, and truly looks contrite, kissing the spot where he’d bitten, then laying Izumi down on the bed, pressing kisses to his face, his neck, his chest. “Didn’t expect you to taste like that. Nnnn, you’re really special, you’re gonna be my fa~vorite...spread your legs, I’m going to lick you clean before I fill you up again.”

Arashi visibly relaxes, then moves closer, just so he can stroke Izumi’s hair while Ritsu plays with him.

Izumi flops back, feeling a delightful mix of lightheaded and sated. It’s not the alcohol—he hasn’t had enough for that, he’s sure—but more the result of how it feels to _apparently_ have someone drink his blood, and his own body reflexively work to fix that loss. It’s an odd rush, but not an unpleasant one, especially when his limbs start gradually responding normally again. “Good, you have the best tongue,” he murmurs, his legs splaying even when his thighs briefly tremble in protest. “That felt good, you can do it whenever you want.”

“That’s a dangerous thing to tell him,” Arashi murmurs.

“Correct,” Ritsu hums happily, then delves between Izumi’s thighs, tongue dragging up, lapping gently at the mess, teasing the edge of Izumi’s hole. “Ahh, they stretched you out so much...I thought you’d be more loose, but it’s already winking at me...mm, you taste good everywhere, you’re my new meal.”

“Don’t care,” Izumi gasps, his legs tense and shaky as his toes curl into the bed. Ritsu’s tongue is another level of overstimulation that his brain can’t quite process, and it makes him whine, his cock giving a weak twitch against his stomach. “I..ahh…l-like the way it feels, who cares if it’s d…nhhh, fuck.” He reaches out, clawing into the first thing he can get his nails into, which happens to be Tsukasa’s thigh. “S-sorry, his tongue is…”

“You’re as sharp as a cat,” Tsukasa mutters, even as he pries Izumi’s nails out of his skin and holds his wrist down to the bed instead. His eyes flick down to Ritsu, still not entirely convinced he won’t bite again, especially when Izumi’s thighs are splayed wide and creamy in front of him. 

The tongue that delves into Izumi’s hole again is longer than any human’s, and Ritsu hums happily, questing and stroking, lapping up all the evidence of Arashi and Tsukasa’s fun. “Kasa...you should play with his chest more,” he suggests, taking another swipe, leaving Izumi’s hole shiny and wet. “Naughty girls love that kind of thing. Rashi, you should give her a drink.”

“I know what you’re implying,” Arashi says with a laugh, “but it’s going to have to be wine for a few minutes, I’m afraid. Not all of us are inhuman in our stamina.” Nevertheless, he tips the bottle of wine into Izumi’s mouth, a little trickle at a time.

“’s the only…nggh—“ Izumi gulps noisily to swallow the wine in his mouth, and he sucks in a ragged breath through his nose. “Bad thing about you,” he finishes on a groan, his head rolling to the side to avoid the bottle of wine for a moment. “Y’should figure it out.” His breath hitches, his hips jerking up when a combination of Ritsu’s tongue and Tsukasa’s suddenly pinching fingers leaves him achingly hard again. “Nnn, Ritsuu, what the fuck, your tongue is…” 

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Ritsu asks smugly. “Maybe if you’re good, I’ll put it on your cock later. If you’re bad, I’ll let you drink from that bottle at this end.”

He sits back, palming himself again, the low light making his skin almost glow with how pale it is, paper white and almost translucent. “Beg for my cock. I’ll be nice and give it to you if your voice is sweet enough.”

_Not wholly human_ , Izumi’s mind dimly reminds him, the suspicion he’d had at the first second of meeting Ritsu coming back again. Magic, blood drinking, strange and too lovely—that should make him wary, and make him stop this, at some point. 

Well, maybe if he were known for good sense. 

“Fuck me, please,” he pants out, the twitching, overstimulation of before starting to fade, leaving him empty and hungry and annoyed that there _isn’t_ something else in him. Izumi hears a low, needy whine escape his throat. “You d-don’t have to be nice, I don’t care what you do to me, just so long as it’s in me. Please, you can even bite me again, I like it…” 

Teeth flash, Arashi tries to move, but at the last second, Ritsu turns to nibble on Izumi’s ear, lying fully atop him, and it’s almost a gentle thing when he sheathes his cock with a little sigh of contentment, happy to simply be inside for a moment. “Don’t worry,” he breathes, low enough that only Izumi could hear. “I won’t tell them you’re like me. I could drink from you until my belly popped and you’d still be fine, wouldn’t you?”

The noise that leaves Izumi’s throat is breathless and pleased, his eyes rolling back as he squirms down onto Ritsu’s cock with a slow arch of his back. Of course Ritsu can tell, of course. He should be more concerned about that, probably, but right now, Izumi couldn’t care less. Ritsu’s cock is in him, that’s the important thing, and Izumi’s thighs tremble when they draw up to squeeze against Ritsu’s waist. “Mmhm,” he dazedly confirms, dragging his fingers down Ritsu’s spine as he clenches down with a long sigh. “That’s why…you can do it again…” 

“You really shouldn’t be encouraging him like that,” Tsukasa says, a mix exasperated and worried, especially when Ritsu is whispering things in Izumi’s ear that he can’t hear. 

“Be nice, Kasa,” Ritsu murmurs languidly, giving Izumi a filthy grind, working his cock in deep, stroking all the parts of him that his fingers couldn’t earlier, pressing a sucking wet kiss to Izumi’s neck. “The bitch was just begging for my tongue again. Heh, you know we wouldn’t call you names if it didn’t make your cock so hard, right? It’s like you just love this kind of thing, how dirty...”

Arashi’s hand slides down Tsukasa’s back, exploratory, questing, seeing if he’ll pull away when the fingers wander lower. It’s worth a shot, after all. “I think darling Izumi just likes being the center of attention no matter what. He’d love to be on display, don’t you think? We should just take all his clothes, these strong Northern boys don’t seem to need them.”

Tsukasa politely smacks Arashi’s hand away without even looking at it. “I’ve never seen anyone that…liked this so much,” he admits, breath hitching a little. 

“E…everyone else is missing out,” Izumi says with a ragged laugh, his head rolling back when Ritsu’s mouth goes to his neck again, and his fingers drag down his lean back, grabbing at the curve of his ass to pull him in. The angle makes him purr, his eyes fluttering when Ritsu’s cock slides in so deeply that it makes something twinge and cramp inside of him. “I…I don’t let just anyone see me, though, I’m picky…” 

“Says the bitch who’s on her third cock of the night,” Ritsu teases, tugging on the skin of Izumi’s earlobe to soften the words. He takes his time, rocking slowly, moving with Izumi, loathe to ever pull out all the way, just pulling out a few bare centimeters each time so Izumi is never empty. “Mm, you’re right, I’m not gonna show you off, I’m gonna keep you here...I’ll just keep it warm inside you whenever I’m bored, that sounds nice, right? You can be my special pet.”

Arashi withdraws his hand, immediately moving it to his own lap to start stroking, the look on Izumi’s face making him hungry for a second round after all when he usually isn’t up to one. “Between all three of us,” he muses, “I wonder how long he could survive just on drinking what we pour in his mouth?”

_I wish I had never told you that I liked that_ , Izumi darkly thinks, but even he knows he’s lying to himself about that particular sentiment when he swallows at those words, his tongue flicking out to wet his lower lip as his legs tighten against Ritsu’s waist, refusing to let him get too far. Not that Ritsu needs much direction about that—he feels perfect inside, taking his time, with his cock filling and rubbing every _single_ right place. It feels far better than it should after being filled and stuffed to his limit before, but the lingering soreness just makes him more sensitive, arching and shivering at the slightest change. “I’ll…I’ll be your pet,” he readily agrees, working up the strength to pull his hands from Ritsu before Tsukasa does it for him, dragging his trembling fingers to his cock. 

Izumi’s hands aren’t as soft as they look like they should be, and for some reason, that makes Tsukasa’s cock harder. He bites at his lip, guiding Izumi’s fingers to squeeze and stroke around him. “You sound like you’re a starving little cat when you say that.” 

Izumi’s cock gives an unfairly hard twitch at that, and he throws his other arm over his face as he shakes his head. “I don’t wanna come again yet, it hurts,” he bemoans, though it doesn’t sound like a very convincing complaint. “I h-hate being easy sometimes, fuck all of you!”

“Other way around,” Ritsu assures him, then turns to grab Arashi’s half-hard cock, stroking it for him. “Hey, pretty kitty, looks like someone here’s ready to give you some milk...ahhh, we shouldn’t even put it in her mouth, we should just all put it in a bowl and let her lick it up like a real kitty.”

He ruts in deep again, eyes lidding, a slow smile lingering on his lips. “You’d look so lovely, crawling around on all fours, rubbing against us whenever you need to be fed...ahhh, don’t let me think about such nice things, I’m gonna buy a collar.”

“Be nice, Ritsu darling,” Arashi breathes, moving forward enough to rub the head against Izumi’s cheek, leaving a wet streak behind. “She doesn’t belong to us, she’s just on loan. She only _really_ belongs to her master, isn’t that right? What if he could see you like this, your precious prince? I bet he wouldn’t even be surprised...you think he’d be aroused?”

The noise Izumi makes is strangled and not entirely coherent. He clenches down so hard around Ritsu’s cock that the tension spreads to his legs, leaving him shuddering and cramping with his toes curling into the bed, chest heaving with every spasm that makes his cock spill a little more onto his stomach. 

“So it _is_ like that,” Tsukasa murmurs, keeping Izumi’s hand tight around his cock, forcing it to keep stroking even when Izumi is so obviously unfocused and lost. “No wonder you’re so desperate for him to be king, then. You want to sit at the foot of his throne and lick him clean all day.”

_Good bye it was nice knowing you world I am dying._ Izumi’s mouth parts, but so help him if he can respond to that besides a huffy, unsteady breath. 

“Heh, she just keeps coming,” Ritsu murmurs appreciatively, rocking into Izumi at his favorite angle, where he can sort of feel the textured spot inside of Izumi with his cock, but can absolutely feel the way Izumi shudders and whines when he grazes it. “No way this is fit for a prince. It’s a nice hole, but it definitely needs to be filled a bunch more times before that.”

“See, that’s the kind of exhibitionist he is,” Arashi breathes, letting his cock drag over Izumi’s lips, not quite letting him suck it yet. “He doesn’t want to be _our_ pet to show off. He wants to be tied to that throne, on his knees forever. Tell us about it, and I’ll let you have your milk, kitty.”

Izumi hears himself sob, and feels every predictable spasm that his body insists upon when Ritsu just _keeps_ pressing just right, obviously refusing to relent. It’s hard work to keep _going_ like this, and he feels his head loll for not the first time, his chest heaving with every breath, shivering when sweat trickles down his hairline. “C-can’t,” he manages to pant out. “P-please, I—let me…let me show you instead, I’ll be good, I’ll…”

His voice breaks when Tsukasa’s fingers are on his nipples again, pulling, pinching, and Izumi groans, the sound low and desperate. His vision blurs, wet and unfocused as his head turns to the side, tongue dragging over the head of Arashi’s cock. “L…Leo, I…” 

To their credit, no one laughs. Ritsu just thrusts in harder, taking his own pleasure now, groaning into Izumi’s shoulder, hips snapping in swift and powerful. “That’s good, that’s so good, be good for him, yeah? Be a good girl for your prince--”

“King,” Arashi corrects, eyes glittering in the flickering magic lights, swirling around them. “What a good knight, on your back to serve your king...show him how much you worship him, open your mouth, that’s--that’s so good--”

Izumi doesn’t think. He can’t anymore, not when the taste of Arashi in his mouth is so strong, not when Ritsu is fucking him like that, not when Tsukasa’s cock rubs against his other cheek, smearing up along his skin and into his hair. 

His lips close hungrily around Arashi’s cock as he twists to the side, struggling to get him into his mouth all the way, choking when Tsukasa grabs up a handful of his hair to use that as a handle to urge his head down. His eyes tear up, and he frantically grabs for Tsukasa’s hand, misses, has it shoved back to his cock instead, and Izumi surrenders with a low, muffled groan, squeezing, sloppily stroking the thick cock in his grasp when his tongue can barely focus on the one that drips over it. 

When Ritsu comes, the lights snap into a pattern, then explode, fizzling down like fireworks, settling into their skin, making every part it touches glow red, though it can’t be felt by human skin. He lets his hands dig deep into Izumi’s hips, holding him in place as he spills deep within him, coming to rest, panting hard.

“Finish it up,” Arashi whispers. “Just like that, worship your King--”

That does it, for some reason--Izumi’s arousal bleeds into Arashi, making him so much more ready, so much more eager than he would have been, spilling a little trickle of liquid into Izumi’s mouth, letting it slide over his tongue. “That’s a good boy, Tsukasa, finish it off, you need help?”

Tsukasa watches as Izumi swallows, his Adam’s apple visibly bobbing, and it’s only after that that he pulls Izumi’s mouth off, thumbing his mouth open to stuff his own cock inside. “N-no,” he breathes, his own face flushed as he twists his fingers up into Izumi’s hair to pull him down, savoring the muffled little gagging noise he makes. “He knows what to do, look, he’s so—“

It barely takes another thrust before he comes, courtesy of Izumi’s eager, if not sloppy tongue, and Tsukasa somehow pulls enough sense about him to pull his cock back to rest on Izumi’s tongue instead of just spilling straight down his throat. Watching Izumi struggle with that makes his cock twitch again, another few droplets dripping over his tongue when he comes. 

A couple of hard swallows get the job done, and Izumi gasps when he’s finally allowed to pull off, collapsing down into the bed, trembling and struggling to even keep his eyes open. 

Ritsu pulls out, nuzzling into Izumi’s chest, laying there with a satisfied smile on his face. “I know that was for the ritual purposes and everything,” he says, humming a little. “But we could do that any time.”

“No, you’re naughty, you tried to kill Izumi.”

“Naahhhh, I was just taking a nibble. He’s fine, isn’t he?”

“I’m fine,” Izumi repeats back dazedly, even if he’s not even bothering to open his eyes now. “It felt good. Nn…stay, cuddle me, I’m cold…” 

Tsukasa visibly hesitates, but Izumi’s fingers are still surprisingly tight around his wrist the second he tries to shift away. “ _Stay_ , rich boy.” 

“I was going to get you some water—“

“I don’t care what your excuse is. Cuddle me.” 

“He had plenty to drink,” Arashi says happily, wrapping his arms around Izumi’s waist between Izumi and Ritsu, yanking him close. “Come on, on the other side.”

Tsukasa resigns himself—not that it takes that much twisting of his arm, because the idea of leaving doesn’t appeal. He settles down on Izumi’s other side, squeezing draping his arms around the pile of them and burying his face down into Izumi’s hair. “…You smell like a woman still.”

“Thank the gods. Yeah, you can stay,” Izumi sighs, squirming once to get comfortable before his body decides to cheerfully give out. “Mmn. Good night.” 


	7. Chapter 7

Avoiding his mother in her own domain is almost impossible. 

It’s worse, of course, because the last time Izumi spent any time at home was when he was 15, when his mother had taken ill for a week and everyone expected the worst. Arriving years later with something like a reputation on the battlefield doesn’t mean his mother cares about that; she still treats him like her sweet, obedient, beloved son and heir, which means a mix of relentless affection…and expecting him to run every errand, complete every task, _like a good Northern heir should._

Izumi is too tired for that today. 

The only thing that makes him get out of bed at all is his horse, and after dodging his mother, her attendants, and everyone else that could want his attention, Izumi locks himself into one of the estate tutor’s offices. It’s empty and quiet and the light is dim, and he sighs in relief, shutting his eyes as he slumps against the door. 

There’s an enormous, old, overstuffed sofa in the corner, and a pile of blankets already upon it. Basically, it’s _made_ for him. Izumi strides over, starts to flop down—but then the blankets move, a slow rise and fall from breathing, and he freezes. “…Not today,” he mutters, already ready to scold whatever servant is hiding away as he rips the blankets off, but the sight that greets him isn’t anything of the sort. “What the…Ritsu?” 

Heavy lidded eyes open very, very slowly. Then Ritsu’s pale hand shoots out, grabbing Izumi’s wrist and pulling Izumi down on top of him. “I’ll forgive you for disturbing me if you become my blanket. Otherwise I’ll eat you.”

Izumi bites back a squawk, not wanting anyone to hear them outside—old estates, thin walls, that sort of thing. He scowls, letting Ritsu drag him down, even as he winces as he does, adjusting so that his sore, aching body isn’t pulled in any way that’s particularly painful. “What are you doing in here?” he mutters, bracing himself on a hand, refusing to be pulled completely flat. “You don’t have anyone to hide from. I _know_ you were offered a real bed.” 

“I was walking down the hallway to deliver a message, and I got sleepy...this room was open, and this looked reeeeeally comfy.” Ritsu tightens his arms around Izumi, letting out a sleepy, happy little noise. “And I captured a pretty meal, ya~ay...”

“I’m not your meal! Ow, ow, don’t squeeze me too hard, I’m so sore,” Izumi bemoans, giving into the pull when his arms give out and he slumps down on top of Ritsu with a cringe. “This is _my_ hiding place. Don’t bite me right now, I skipped breakfast to avoid my mother.” Both remembering last night and hearing Ritsu talk about _feeding_ fromhim again makes Izumi instinctively nervous, now that he’s sober and…not otherwise preoccupied. “You need to explain a few things if you ever want to bite me again, actually.” 

“I’m half demon,” Ritsu says around a yawn, with absolutely no hesitation. “A hundred years old. Heh, I’m famous, you ever heard of the Shadowlands?”

“…Vaguely.” Izumi’s eyes narrow. “You barely look a day over twenty. I’ve never heard of demons that feed on blood like that.” 

“Half demon,” Ritsu reminds him, blinking sleepily. “Most demons in the Shadowlands just eat humans whole. But because of my human side it just ends up with me drinking blood. But I look totally normal and cute, so that’s a good thing, I guess.”

Izumi’s lips purse. “Fine. You’re a half-demon from the Shadowlands.” He’s honestly heard stranger things lately, and he’s already let Ritsu drink his blood, apparently, so he can’t be too critical. “That’s not enough of an explanation, though. If you’re a half-demon from the Shadowlands, why are you posing as a knight and trying to be a part of my eventual Kingsguard?” 

“Long story. Short version, my family is outlaws because the king’s father was a piece of shit, I want to be able to use my real name without being hunted. And I want to find my brother alive.” Ritsu shrugs. “Standard stuff, really. The king hunted my family to almost extinction, so I’m not a fan.”

Izumi’s head tilts, and he folds his arms against Ritsu’s chest, setting his chin atop them as he peers at him. “Arashi mentioned you have a pro-magician agenda last night, or something like it. Are you a magician? Or is your brother? I know you used magic, but it didn’t seem…the same, as the other magicians I’ve met.” 

“I went to the Academy. Ahh...it was different then,” Ritsu says wistfully. “I’ve heard such stupid stuff from Mao about how it is these days, like they never let them talk to outsiders, never let them have sex, make them kill with their brains, don’t let them choose what they study or where they live...they’re like slaves, it didn’t use to be like that. It’s one thing if slaves are captured in times of war, but we were all born citizens, you know? It’s not right. And it’s too easy for a noble to force a wizard to work for him, then use them to kill or win a war, it’s really gross.”

“Mm. I’ve talked to wizards, they’ve told me a lot about that. I had no idea,” Izumi admits quietly, still annoyed with himself over simply not paying attention to it when it was plainly underneath his nose the whole time. _He’s_ the one that’s in the capital, after all. “As soon as the prince takes the throne, I plan to petition him about all of that and have it changed.” 

Ritsu nods in satisfaction, letting his eyes shut again. “It’d be nice not to live like a fucking criminal for wanting to get a blowjob, ha. And if...if my brother’s still alive...it would be good if I could find him. But I don’t think he’ll ever come out of hiding if the King is still on the throne. Or if he does...it won’t be good.”

Izumi pauses, parses through that again, and goes a little cold. Ah. Hm. Wizards are apparently wizards even if they’re half-blooded demons, he supposes. So that’s a law he’s now broken and could be skinned alive for, cool, good to know. “…What’s your brother’s name?” he manages, forcing himself to focus on something else. 

“Rei.” Ritsu’s eyes glow deep red. “I can hear your pulse, you know. Don’t worry. We’ve all sworn a blood pact to each other, and no one alive knows I’m a wizard except the people in the room last night.”

Fuck. That _name_ again. “This is getting creepy,” Izumi mutters, pushing himself up slowly. “I was just talking about your brother-apparent a few weeks ago.”

“Ahhh, yeah, I forgot Shu is in Rashi’s company. It was him, right? I’m not reading your mind, he’s just the only person who knows him. He doesn’t know who I am, except as one of Rashi’s soldiers.” Ritsu smirks. “He’s in love with my brother. I hope he’s alive, or that sucks.”

“…He’s…fucked up, isn’t he?” There’s no real, polite way that describes it, so Izumi doesn’t try. “Gods,” he mutters, raking his hair back from his face. “I’m almost relieved to hear you’re a wizard. Now I know they aren’t just insane by default.” 

Ritsu snorts. “There’s a reason that even a lowborn noble like Rashi can get two wizards. Those two are...yeah, they don’t want them at the Academy or in the Capital for a reason.”

“They’re…something.” Izumi hesitates, slowly slinking back down. “So are there any side effects to you drinking from me that I need to be worried about? Arashi and the rich kid seemed to think it was a pretty bad idea, judging by how they were acting.”

“Oh.” Ritsu waves a hand, unconcerned. “Sometimes I lose control and take too much, that’s all. But you didn’t die. Heh, but I’ve never chomped on a drake’s son before, you’re tasty. Like an icicle, but minty.”

“A—wait, what?” 

Izumi looms over him, eyes wide. There’s nothing he can do to put a stop to the wary eagerness on his face, his heart beating too-fast, mouth dry. “If you know anything about what my father is, tell me.” 

“Oh. Did you not know? They’re kinda rapey, that’s probably why...” Ritsu stretches out, toes wriggling. “Pet me while I talk, be nice to me. Ahhh, Ice Drakes live up in the Glacierlands. They’re like huge lizards, you know, but with icicles instead of scales. They can take human forms, but only when they thaw, so most don’t bother...mm, what do you wanna know?”

Izumi has to lean back, flopping on the other end of the couch, stunned into silence for a moment, and into movement at the same time. He doesn’t say anything before he just pulls Ritsu’s feet into his lap, digging his thumbs into the arch of one of them. “Anything. Everything. I…I had no idea.”

“Oops,” Ritsu says, sounding not entirely concerned. “Did you think you were human? You’re not, you’re way better. Hmm...what else...they don’t really die. I’ve never heard of one dying except by burning, and even that’s only if they’re in human form, so you’ve gotta trick them into turning first. In their element, they just...you can stab ‘em, behead ‘em, turn ‘em to stone, they just shrug it off and heal, so that’s cool.”

“I didn’t know what I was. I…used to think I was human, maybe a wizard, how was I supposed to know?” Izumi swallows. “It’s creepy, that you don’t even bat an eye about this shit.” It all makes too much sense, actually, and that makes Izumi feel some horrendous mix of relieved and horrified. “You can’t tell anyone.” 

“Course not, they’d kill you,” Ritsu snorts. “So, do you heal anything? I’ve only known one other guy who was descended from a drake, and that was like...he was like a one-sixteenth, and even he had some weird shit going on. Anything that happened, if he survived, he’d never have a scar. So cool.”

“…I’ve never _not_ been able to heal anything, so good luck with them killing me, I guess,” Izumi mutters. His fingers stroke down the arch of one of Ritsu’s feet, then back up, distractedly working on each toe individually. “I’ve survived gut wounds, I’ve fixed my own broken bones, being bitten by venomous things…I can also extend it to other people or animals, though, but it’s more difficult. With myself, I don’t even have to think about it. I have to think more about _not_ doing it, which is annoying on days like this, when I have to obviously still look and act like I got trampled by a horse.” 

Ritsu opens his mouth, then closes it, thinking. “The Captain doesn’t know?”

“No.” Izumi winces. “I…don’t know how much he’s told you, but the way I came into his care…it wasn’t exactly the most favorable to begin with. I didn’t want to give him another reason to dislike me, or, you know, turn me back to the capital and see me killed.” 

“Mm, yeah.” Ritsu flexes his foot, eyes lidding at the nice stroking. “You’re good at that, I’d keep you alive just for the foot rubs.” He wiggles, then adds, “You can tell him, if you want. Rashi’d never betray you. He knows I’m half-demon. Hmm, but then...I mean, you’ve never been beheaded or thrown off a cliff, right? Maybe don’t tell him, because if he thinks you’re invulnerable, he’ll feel like it’s his duty to send you alone into the most dangerous areas. Ahh, but it’s definitely going to come out eventually, right? If you’re serving together on the front lines? Then maybe do tell him...hmm...”

“I already volunteer for it. He just thinks I’m crazy right now.” Izumi switches feet, pulling Ritsu’s leg further up into his lap. “I’ve been debating about it,” he admits. “I can’t decide if he’d prefer knowing or…prefer not knowing, because if he knew how far it extended beyond _me_ …heh. I feel like he’d be pissed at me when I didn’t fix up injured soldiers that I could’ve probably saved from dying, or when I didn’t heal the broken sword arms of men that now don’t have a career. But I just don’t care. I can’t afford to, I don’t have time to. I heal my horse and my prince, that’s about it.”

Ritsu nods slowly. “Yeah. Don’t tell him. That means don’t get ‘killed’ where he can see you put yourself back together. Because if he knows you can fix people up and then you don’t, he’ll be really mad. And if he knows he could let you fix people, he’d feel like he has to--he’s really loyal to his men, you know?”

“Yeah. I know.” Izumi digs his thumbs into the arch of Ritsu’s foot with a scowl. “Why do you think I’m suffering right now still? I don’t want him to think I’m magical in any way, just good with a sword. Ugh, I’ve had about enough of this soldier mess, to be honest. I want to go home. To the capital, I mean, not stay here.” 

“Now you’re making me homesick,” Ritsu complains. “Heh, I don’t get homesick for places, I get homesick for people.” He cups his hands, then blows on them, and a little red sparrow suddenly flutters out of them, darting out the window, seeking out Mao to lead him here. “You’re great but I wanna be taken care of for serious. You can say stuff in front of him when he gets here, he’s a spy. Our spy.”

Izumi leans forward to stare suspiciously out of the window, watching the bird flutter off. “You have a spy? Of course you do.” He pauses, curiosity immediately getting the better of him, courtesy of Ritsu’s turn of phrase. “Is he your lover?” 

Ritsu beams. “He’d say no. I say yes. He’ll come around.”

“If you kiss him and dote on him, he’s your lover. That’s the rule.” Izumi pats the bottom of Ritsu’s feet, pushing them out of his lap. “I’m not really interested in spending time around a spy right now, sorry, so I’ll see you later.” 

Mao beats him to it. His head of red hair comes up over the windowsill before he drags himself nimbly up into it, looking as put out as he had the night prior at the party, especially at the sight of Izumi. “You—Ritsu. You haven’t been causing more trouble, have you?”

“ _You?_ ” Izumi echoes incredulously. “ _This_ is the spy?” 

Mao’s lips part before he heaves a long sigh, staring down at Ritsu. “What have you been talking about now?” 

“Nothing. Maao, come cuddle me, I’m sleepy. You’re ignoring me for that stupid Makowhatever guy, I’m gonna bite you.”

“I’m not _ignoring you_ for him, I’m supposed to be his Keeper right now,” Mao exasperatedly replies, but he swings his legs into the room all the same. “You will not bite me. You—“ He pauses, looks at Ritsu again, and then frowns. His gaze flickers to Izumi again, wary about his presence, but Ritsu rarely keeps the same company twice unless they’ve been…more or less approved. “You’ve fed recently.” 

“Yep. A whole bunch. I took a lot of little sips from some country girls, no one died,” Ritsu half-lies, reaching out for Mao’s hand. “I’m nice and full. Ahhh, this is Izumi, he’s from up here like your stupid friend.”

“Please stop calling Makoto stupid,” Mao patiently says, letting Ritsu take his hand and pull him over, placating him with a ruffle of his hair. “Ritsu, you know that you aren’t supposed to be—“ 

“Sorry, did you say Makoto?” There have already been too many strange name-drops today (one is too many) for Izumi to ignore this one. He leans over from his end of the couch. “A Makoto from up here, in the North?” 

“Ah…yes,” Mao hedges. “He’s a wizard that’s in my charge.”

Izumi’s heart thuds, a strange, excited reaction he hadn’t quite expected. “Is he actually here? Now?” 

“Well—“

“You should take me to him. I think I know him, it’s not like his name is common.” Though it’s not the name he called Makoto by, not when they were young, because nobles and low-borns don’t let their children mingle in the North, if they can help it. Obscuring the name of his one friend (a low-born) became a necessity. “Come now, you can’t refuse a Lord in his estate.” 

Mao’s expression is skeptical. “I think I’ll stay here, thank you, Milord—“

“Fine. Then I’ll find him myself.”

Izumi hops to his feet, and Mao scowls, pulling away from Ritsu to trail after him. “You will do no such thing. Wizards—they’re a delicate sort, if you disturb him—“ 

“Wizards aren’t supposed to have friends, you know,” Ritsu says softly, tugging on Izumi’s sleeve. “You could make things a lot worse for him. Why not just send a letter through Mao? Eh, but Maao, Izumi is already friends with a wizard, he knows how to talk to them...”

“I was friends to him _before_ he was a wizard, that’s different,” Izumi pointedly insists, brushing off Ritsu’s touch as he folds his arms over his chest. “He’s right, though. I’m often the bodyguard of the wizard Shu. If I can handle him, I think I can handle speaking to an old friend of mine.” 

Mao frowns, not entirely convinced. “I’m trying to make his travels as uneventful as possible,” he finally says. “He’s been on edge since coming near here, anyway. I don’t want to stir things up even more.”

“I’ll be a balm to his nerves. He’ll recognize me.” 

“That’s…probably not true.” Mao shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I have to refuse.” 

Izumi smiles, and heads towards the door. “Sure. Ahh, I’m sure no one else will tell the lord of this house where our special guests are being housed at _all_ …”

“Maao,” Ritsu whines, grabbing Mao’s hand. He holds it tightly, telling himself the whole time that even if he let go, Mao would keep holding on. “If you don’t tell him, he’ll go after him, isn’t it better if you lead him there? Then it won’t be a scary surprise. He’s the lord of the house, you know, you should show him some deference...”

Mao wavers. Ritsu has a point, but it’s still worrisome, thinking about someone from Makoto’s past disturbing him. “…Fine,” he finally settles upon. “But only with supervision.”

“Excellent, good man, I knew you’d come around,” Izumi hums, his smile too-sweet as he pats Mao’s shoulder. “Lead the way, then. Ritsu, you can come along if you like, you look awfully cute, hanging on his arm like that.”

“Don’t touch me,” Mao mutters, abruptly brushing Izumi’s touch off, irritated on principle. “Ritsu, you probably should be up and about. You’ve slept long enough. He’s being kept just outside of the encampment—a temporary stopover, before we head to the capital.” 

Ritsu’s face falls. “Ehhh, you’re leaving for the capital already? But we _just_ got here, I wanted to spend a lot of time with you. What about my reward, we just beat a _lot_ of Inglings, I’m tired and I deserve to get spoiled.”

“I know, I know,” Mao sighs, guiding Ritsu towards the door and opening it for him, _not_ Izumi. “You seem like you’re being spoiled plenty, though, being allowed to sleep this much. I’m sure we’ll cross paths again soon, you know how I’m rarely in the same city for more than half a week.” 

“Sounds bad,” Izumi remarks, as if the conversation includes him. “Ahh, hold on, I need to go and grab my sword.”

“Milord,” Mao shortly adds, “you’re not bringing your sword around my charge.”

“Do you think I’m going to kill him or something? That’s funny.” 

“I don’t really care what you think, you’re not bringing it.” 

Izumi’s eyes roll hard. “Fine. Mm, do you like men like this, Ritsu? Stubborn and argumentative?” 

“Yeah, Maao is really good,” Ritsu says unapologetically. He clings to Mao’s hand, lacing his fingers through Mao’s, beaming happily. “I heard that no one cares if you like to bugger the boys up here as long as you’re not trifling with nobles, is that true? The North is so weird...and cold, Maao, let me put my hands in your shirt, it’s fine in the North--”

“Don’t you dare, your hands are freezing! Wear gloves or something, Ritchan, I keep telling you…” 

“In the North, no one cares if you’re kissing girls or boys so long as nobles are kissing nobles and low-borns are kissing low-borns,” Izumi says as if he’s reciting it. He lets Mao lead the way out of the estate—fortunately, nowhere that his mother is currently passing through—and sighs at the chill coming through the air, promising snow in the night, maybe. “And in the capital, boys kiss girls, noble or low-born or everything in between, but _only_ girls. Ahh, it’s all so stupid, honestly…” 

Mao snorts to himself and grabs Ritsu’s hand more tightly, not _exactly_ liking the idea of him being associated with someone that has such a notorious…personality. Seeing it in person isn’t making him warm up to it, either. “I’ll go in to speak to him first,” he curtly says, the crisp, cold ground barely trodden in the direction he takes them. “And if he doesn’t want to see you, you’ll drop it. All right, _Milord?”_

“Yes, yes, whatever you say.”

“…Stay out here, too,” Mao sighs, patting Ritsu’s head as he releases his hand. “Just for a minute.” 

Seemingly unaffected by the weather, the spacious tent that his wizard charge is afforded is _much_ warmer, and he lets himself in with a brief rustle of the tent’s flap. “Good morning, Excellency,” he greets, then grimaces, the reflexive address sitting ill on his tongue. It’s foolish to be familiar with his charges, but… “Makoto. How are you faring? There’s a guest for you, if you want to see him.” 

Makoto looks up from his book, startled. He hadn’t exactly been enjoying the text, but he was supposed to have it read and understood a fortnight ago, and certainly hadn’t managed that. His hands run nervously over the text, not quite hearing what Mao had said at first, then feeling it sink in. He blinks owlishly behind his spectacles--too large for his face, but they’d been gifted to him by a teacher who’d had much wider-set ears. “Ah, I was just--rereading, obviously I’m finished, but...wait, a guest? What should I, should I wear something? Is she pretty? Not that it matters...”

“He,” Mao wearily corrects. “You don’t even have to get dressed, as far as I’m concerned, and if you don’t want to see him, I’ll throw him out. He fancies himself the heir of the Northern house we’re mooching off of currently—Sena, something another?” Feigning ignorance and disinterest is useful, when he dislikes someone. “He said he knew you, but again, if he’s lying, I’ll send him away.” 

Makoto blinks, then slowly, painfully, his cheeks redden. Surely, Izumi is here--it must be Izumi, there are no other male Sena around--for some official reasons, surely he can’t remember the cook’s foolish son, surely he wouldn’t come all the way out here just to say hello. He stands, grabbing his official robes--if Izumi wants a wizard, he’ll get one, as poor an imitation as he is--and dons them over his soft loose trousers and underclothes. “Um, yes, he can...he can come in. Ahhh, what did he say? Did he remember me? Did he say anything? What does he--ahh, just bring him in.”

Mao’s lips purse. He doesn’t like this, not in the slightest, especially from the reaction Makoto is having. “He remembers you,” he carefully says instead of talking about how excited Izumi had obviously been. “I’ll let him in, but…ahh, never mind.” 

Unhappy with this outcome, Mao still tries to keep his expression neutral when he steps back outside. “You can speak to him. Touch him and I’ll know. If you know how to speak to wizards, then you know—“

“Yes, yes, I don’t need a briefing from you.” Izumi briskly brushes past Mao, excitement long having taken away the focus needed to _not_ heal himself up instantly, and so when he strides into Makoto’s tent, he’s all but glowing, cheeks lightly flushed from the cold, eyes alight the second they fall upon Makoto. “It _is_ you!” He’d know that hair and those eyes anywhere, and that face, honestly too pretty for a cook’s son. “Gods, you’re so tall now! Ahh, you remember me, right, Yuukun~?” 

“Ehh? No one’s called me that in so long...” Makoto pushes his glasses up, blinking owlishly, a little sheepish. How does one look when one’s trying not to look like he’s spent the last ten years thinking about the other...one? However that would look, he doubts he’s pulling it off. He tries (oh, his Masters would be embarrassed of how poorly he’s doing). Some of his lessons reassert themselves--punishments where he’d been made to recite erotic poetry while sitting in a tub of ice water for soiling his sheets in the night, being caught sitting too close to another classmate and each of them having their bare arses tanned in public, a dozen more he can think of--and he breathes deeply, though his face still flushes. “It’s good to see you again, Lord Izumi. You look...”

He looks, truly _looks_ , and his breath catches in his throat. He fumbles for words, and manages, “You look...well.”

Izumi beams, and promptly makes himself at home, pushing aside several of Makoto’s books to drop down onto the table in front of him, crossing one long leg over the other. “Right? I’ve been training in the capital for about seven years now, but I’m working under Sir Arashi right now, for a number of reasons. Unimportant. I had no idea I’d ever see you again, it must be fate that you and I ended up heading back to the North at the same time.”

Makoto’s heart thuds too-hard against his ribcage, surely hard enough that Izumi will hear it. Maybe he’s being foolish--there’s no way that this could be a test, right? Memories of past tests he’s failed still haunt him, and Mao _had_ warned him that more would be coming...best to be on his guard, just in case. “We’re only here for another day,” he says apologetically. “Bound for the capitol, actually, now that I’ve finished my apprenticeship. I’ve got to travel there to get my placement from the King.”

“Maybe if I begged the Captain, I could take a week to escort you there myself…” Izumi wistfully thinks. “For old time’s sake, if nothing else. Ah, these glasses really don’t suit you,” he teases, leaning forward to catch Makoto’s glasses by the bridge and pluck them right off. “There we are. Your eyes are still _so_ green.” Huh. Guess he’s always had a preference for that, who knew. 

“A-ah, I can’t really see without those, Iz--um, Lord Izumi.” Makoto laughs at himself, embarrassed. “Please forgive me, I kept forgetting back then and now I’m doing it even though we’re all grown up. Oh, or--it would be Sir Izumi, wouldn’t it? Sorry, I forgot, you went to become a knight, didn’t you?” His eyes shine. “You must have been having such adventures, I hope I’ll get to read about them someday!”

“Just Izumi is fine. Then I can still call you Yuukun without anyone scolding me, right?” It also stops him from having to explain why he isn’t _explicitly_ a knight yet, which is getting old, as time goes on. He hooks Makoto’s glasses into the neck of his tunic, uncaring (not even noticing) that it pulls the entire, flimsy article of clothing down to show more of his collarbones as he leans closer, batting his eyelashes. “You should convince that stuffy Keeper of yours to let me take you out riding before you have to take off for the capital again. My horse, you’d like him, he’s as bad as that old pony I had that wouldn’t stop inhaling every apple he saw.” 

“Ah, I don’t really convince him of much of anything,” Makoto says, self-deprecating and increasingly sure that this is absolutely a test. Why else would the object of his long-standing affection be here, looking like a young god, pulling down his shirt and begging for time to be alone together? Makoto’s cock starts to twitch, only to meet with the painfully hard resistance of his very special underwear, and he grimaces. If this is a test, he’s already failing. “I don’t think we really have time. Ah...what was your pony’s name--Gobble, right? Heh, he was so fat.”

“I’ll ask him myself, then. I made the acquaintance of a friend of his last night, so he’ll probably be able to sway things one way or another. Ugh, I swear Vale—that’s my horse—won’t be any better in a few years, especially when we’re back in the captial all the time. The prince sneaks him food, it’s infuriating.” Izumi hesitates, then gives into the urge to run his mouth, because it’s _Makoto_ , and what can it hurt at this point, anyway? “I’ve been the bodyguard of a wizard for the past few months. He’s…it made me start thinking of you again, quite a bit, especially after I learned all of the things wizards have to go through, and deal with.” 

I’ve been thinking of you.

_Makoto flushes, trying not to read too much into that. “It’s--it’s fine, it’s good, I’ve learned so many things at the Academy, it makes sense that there’s a lot of rules. I’ve gotten to learn magic, how amazing is that--and I thought I’d always be useless, you know? You know I wasn’t very talented as a kid...”_

Izumi’s lips purse. “What does that have to do with anything? You were a kid, no one’s that great at anything.” He sighs, freeing Makoto’s glasses from his shirt to hand them over. “I don’t like hearing about the things they put you through. As soon as I can, I’m going to see that things are changed—for your benefit, so you aren’t just someone’s tool.” 

“Changed?” Makoto cleans the lens of his glasses, then puts them back on his nose, blinking up at Izumi--then quickly looking away, because Izumi is far more beautiful than his child’s mind had remembered, or puberty had been _very_ kind to him. “It’s really fine, don’t put yourself out on my account. I...I can be useful like this. Maybe I’ll get lucky and they’ll send me to be a researcher, or down south where they use wizards to bring in a lot of extra crops in times of famine...that would be really helpful, you know?”

Izumi exhales an aggravated breath. “It’s not a matter of being useful to anyone,” he patiently says. “You could be as useful as a bag of rotten potatoes and I wouldn’t care. Listen, Yuukun—I know you’ve had to put up with a lot of shit over the past few years, but…” Izumi reaches out compulsively, grabbing for one of his hands. “I swear, no matter what happens, I’m going to do something about it, okay?” 

Makoto’s breath catches in his throat. His hand tightens microscopically, and he starts to step forward, licking his lips--

Then yanks his hand back, cheeks flaming, turning away as his heart thuds hard against his chest. “It’s fine,” he says hoarsely. “Just--you should go, Lord Izumi. I’ve overstayed my welcome. Mao!”

Izumi opens his mouth to protest, but Mao is already stepping inside, letting in the chill of winter the second he opens the tent’s flap. “You should go,” he bluntly says. “His Excellency has clearly had enough.” 

“It _really_ pisses me off that you think you can order me around,” Izumi snaps suddenly, climbing to his feet and striding over to Mao. “You don’t outrank me, this isn’t your domain, and I couldn’t care _less_ what you have to say about _my_ friend. You aren’t reading his mind.”

“You can call him your friend all you want, Milord,” Mao flatly replies. “But he’s _my_ charge, and if you’re bothering him, I’ll have you leave.” 

“He’s not bothering me,” Makoto says hastily, hovering behind Mao. “I’m just, I’m a little tired, I think I’m a bit of a bother to him, honestly, we should be going, right? Ah, I’m sure Lord Izumi doesn’t need us taking up space in his domain any longer...” _Please don’t make me invoke my Rite of Free Passage_ , he thinks desperately, knowing that if Izumi keeps saying and doing things that make him _want_ , he’ll have no choice.

“We don’t have to go until the evening, Excellency. You can relax for now.” Mao folds his arms across his chest, staring Izumi down. “Well? Leave, then.”

Izumi has had enough of Mao, spy-apparent, and it takes every bit of effort not to punch him in the face for merely existing. “Fine,” he grinds out instead, disinterest in causing a scandal on his mother’s property, of all things, winning out in the end. “Yuukun—let’s meet up again in the capital. I’m sure it’ll happen.”

He storms out, and Mao heaves a long sigh, wiping a hand down his face. “I hate guys with tempers like that,” he mutters, turning around to look Makoto up and down, making sure he’s in one piece. “Did he touch you? Or say something? You can tell me, I’m on your side.” 

Makoto groans, leaning forward to slump with his face in his hands, though that makes the weird lines of his underclothing cut into his soft flesh. “I’m really stupid, I’m sorry. He really--I mean, he did grab my hand, but he just wanted to take me away from everything, it’s not like he was going to do anything, I’m the dumb one who can’t stop thinking about him.”

Mao frowns immediately, and gently takes Makoto by the shoulder, easing him back to his chair. “It’s not your fault at all. He knows better.” He hesitates, then adds, “I should be reporting him for that kind of behavior, but if you don’t want me to, I won’t this time. I know he was your friend, but…he has a reputation.” 

“Eh? He does? What kind of reputation?” Too late, Makoto hears the interest in his own voice, and fiddles guiltily with his fingers. “Sorry. If this was my test, just fail and report me, I know I messed up really bad.” The thought of Reeducation is frightening, but he _does_ deserve it, after all.

“It’s not a test. Relax, relax,” Mao soothes, pulling up a proper seat instead of knocking things aside and sitting on a table like an foul-mannered cat. “He’s…well, he originally made a name for himself in the capital as an undefeated duelist, but one with a horrendous temperament. He also, apparently, never once was the one to issue a challenge for said duels; every single one of them came to him. Can you guess why?” 

“He’s...always had a bit of a sassy mouth?”

“No. Because he climbs in bed with their wives, has his way with them, and their husbands are furious afterwards, so they challenge him.” Mao’s expression is world-weary. “Though I’m sure his mouth doesn’t help. He never kills anyone in his duels, either; instead of delivering a killing blow, he lops off the top notch of their ear.” 

Makoto’s mouth falls open, eyes gone as wide as saucers. “I-I-Izumi?” he squeaks. “Really? That--that doesn’t sound like him at all!”

“That’s him. In spite of going around and marking perfectly honorable men as ’neutered’—“ Mao’s eyes roll. “—he still had several offers to swear to high-ranking officials within the capital, and refused. He has the arrogance to wait for His Highness the Crowned Prince to become king and elevate his rank instead. _That’s_ the sort of man he is, Makoto.” 

Something cold twists in Makoto’s chest. Izumi, clearly, has changed. “I should have expected that he’d be different, but...I don’t know. I guess I thought deep down that he’d still be that cheeky, funny, sweet boy I knew when we were young.” He drags his hands down his face. “I feel really stupid. We’re leaving in the morning, right?”

“Yes, we’re leaving in the morning.” Mao heaves a sigh, and reaches over, giving Makoto’s shoulder a squeeze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you that to make you feel stupid, just—to warn you. I don’t trust him, and I don’t think you should, either. He _also_ probably didn’t tell you that he’s here now because he faced being thrown out of the capital entirely for brawling a high-ranking knight, and his only other option was to temporarily become Sir Arashi’s aide.” 

_That was probably my fault,_ Makoto thinks irrationally. _If I were still his friend, I could have stopped him, I could have saved him...he’d be a great knight by now, and everyone would be fighting over who got to fight with him, not fighting because he’s being...this way._ “He really is a good person deep down,” he mutters, aware that he sounds so sentimental that his Masters at the Academy would break out the switch for it. “Is he...in a lot of trouble, do you think? Will he be all right? I know, I know, I’ve cut all ties, I promise--”

Mao waves a hand, dismissive. Makoto needs to get this out of his system, and he’s the most neutral party to do it with, after all. “For better or for worse,” he begrudgingly begins, “he’s made a name for himself on the battlefield as well. Or so I’ve heard. He’s more than fine.” He leans forward, elbows braced on his knees. “Makoto—if he tries to talk to you again, promise me you’ll keep your own best interests in mind? And if you can’t, you can call me and I’ll deal with him for you, you know that.” He hesitates, and deals with the elephant in the room. “I know you think he’s very beautiful. Not an accusation, and I won’t report it, just…I know.” 

Makoto feels his face burning, and he nods. “I’ll be smart. I’ll do whatever I have to, I promise I won’t let you down.”

Because Mao probably won’t report him, which means if Makoto _is_ an idiot, Mao will be on the hook also. He can’t let that happen, can’t let anything happen to Izumi, who has a promising career, who is so lovely that someone will be so happy someday.

Without wanting to, he flashes back to one of his earliest lessons. “You may have friends, a fiance, parents, or siblings back home,” his instructor, Lord Careson, had said. “You can only make them happy by serving the realm. If they ever smile on their own, you will not be responsible. They will never smile for you again. Improve the realm to make them happy. They do not belong to you. You belong to the realm.”

_“I belong to the realm,” he echoes quietly. “The King’s safety is my pleasure. The land’s prosperity is my satisfaction.”_

It would be good if that bastard actually stayed good on his word.

_His own opinions on wizarding laws and kings aside, Mao still nods, and reaches over to gentle muss Makoto’s hair. “I trust you,” he quietly says, because in all the time he’s spent escorting wizards to and fro, sometimes, that’s what they need to hear more than anything. “Take it easy, okay? I’m not going to let him or anyone else make this difficult for you, I promise.”_

Makoto sighs out a long breath, nodding gratefully at Mao, though he keeps his hands in his lap. It’s much easier to interact with people who know how much they’re allowed to touch him, and how much he’s allowed to touch them, people who don’t come into his space and heart to try and make a space for themselves where he’s not allowed to let them. “Thank you. I’ll be worthy of your trust, I swear it as a man.”

“Good.” Mao offers him up a smile, and he climbs to his feet. “I’m going to send for your lunch, okay? I figured you might as well enjoy some Northern cooking while we’re up here.”

Makoto’s stomach growls audibly. “Did...”

No. He’s already been poorly behaved today. Giving Mao something so stupid to write to his Masters about is far worse than not knowing if his mother asked about him. “Did you have a chance to sleep well last night?” he asks instead.

“Not in the slightest,” Mao dryly replies, rubbing at the back of his neck. “The party was loud, wasn’t it?” 

He would tell Makoto that his mother no longer lives anywhere near the estate confines, let alone works for them…but what’s the point in him knowing that if he can’t contact her, when she clearly doesn’t want to contact him? “Anyway, go back to your reading. I’ll be back in a bit.” 

“I will. Thank you.” 

But after Mao leaves, Makoto can’t make his eyes focus on a single written word.


	8. Chapter 8

The North has some amenities that Mika could get used to. 

It’s cold, of course, and he could do without that—but they have a number of countermeasures for such things. Among them are the enormous slabs of rock that are constantly dropped down into underground chambers full of geysers and dragged back up through a system of pulleys, leaving them hot through and through as if the sun has baked them for days straight. Then, covered with blankets, usually a small table, too, for nobles that are trying to still get something done, they’re perfect for curling up on and basking, as if humans are temporarily turned to snakes. 

Mika does not hate that concept.

Because he’s a wizard, and don’t you know, a particularly dangerous one, he gets his own stone sanctioned off in a little room away from the rest. The steam from underground still filters up through the room, and his stone is draped in heavy blankets that leave him sighing contently as he wallows in them. Today is a good day—namely, a day where he’s decided to pretend that he’s on vacation from everything that has to do with being a wizard, and he’s alone, besides, so being completely and entirely naked underneath his pile of blankets is an unadulterated luxury, all clothing and trappings discarded in a pile on the floor. Shu would scold him, the Academy would punish him, but, ahh…

Warming stones are _good._

Mika rolls over onto his belly, his long, messy hair flopping over his face and pooling onto the floor off the stone. Maybe, if he’s quiet, everyone will forget he’s even here and he can stay like this _forever._

Arashi opens the door as quietly as he can, standing in front of the closed door with a little smile playing on his face. “Mika, darling, you awake? Or did you finally boil to death, and I’ll have to throw myself on your pyre?”

“Nnnn.”

Mika doesn’t bother moving, except to flop one hand in greeting. His nails are recently painted in glittering dark red, courtesy of Shu’s insistence that he can’t be seen chipped and poorly maintained in front of Northern nobles. “Arashiii, did you know? Warming stones are _so_ good…” 

Arashi sits daintily on the table currently above Mika’s blankets, reaching down to tousle his messy hair. “No wonder you’re so attached to it, like attracts like, heh?”

Mika makes a low, grumbly noise, but it’s far from unhappy. He rolls, twisting onto his back, blankets slinking down his shoulders enough to make it apparent that he’s very naked underneath them, and he grabs for Arashi’s hand, tugging. “Come lie with me.” It’s a deliberate double entendre, and Mika follows it up sweetly with, “It’s soo warm, _kara._ Aren’t y’cold? The North would be terrible without these, huh…” 

A shiver that has nothing to do with the weather goes through Arashi, and he bites the inside of his cheek. It would be easy to convince himself that Mika doesn’t know what he’s doing, but Arashi knows better. Mika might be adorable, but he’s also crafty.

Unfortunately, Arashi has always been weak to cute, crafty boys like that.

He sticks his toes down under the blankets as a compromise. “I can’t lie down there right now, I’m working,” he says gently. “I just came to tell you about our orders. Stop being so tempting.”

Mika, undeterred, slowly hauls himself up, letting the blankets pool around his lap instead as he props his chin into his hands, elbows on the table to better peer up at Arashi. “Can’t. I’m jus’ like this. Mmn, it must be dumb, if you’re comin’ to tell me directly.” 

Arashi grimaces. “The orders are stupid,” he admits. “They only make sense in the Capital, you know? They think that because we’ve been defending the West and then the Inglings attacked the North, it means we’re giving my lands preferential treatment--the bastards, as if they didn’t give me those lands _exactly_ because they wanted me to defend them? As if we didn’t ride hell-for-leather, losing _lots_ of men, to _defend_ the North, even though it cost me--”

He cuts himself off with a muttered curse. “They’re sending us South to patrol the Sandlands. It’s a popular move in the Capital, apparently.”

Mika’s mouth immediately twists, and he throws himself back down, dragging the blankets over his head. “Nope.” 

“I know, sweetheart, I know, but that’s the thing about orders, they’re not optional.”

“Tell them y’lost me. I’ll just stay here and boil until I steam away t’nothin’.” 

Arashi sighs, rubbing at his forehead. “All right. I thought it might be too much. I’ll have you transferred to Captain Morisawa’s legion, he needs a wizard. They’re right on the ocean, you’ll never need to go South. I’ll miss you.”

Mika growls, low and displeased. “I can’t be apart from Master,” he firmly says, easing the blanket down enough to glower up at Arashi with his mismatched stare. “And I ain’t leavin’ you, either. Come lie with me.” 

Arashi wavers. The second he catches those mismatched eyes with his own, he’s lost, and knows it. His knees hit the warm stone, and he curls, getting his arms and legs around Mika, keeping him bundled up in the blanket. “There, that’s _really_ nice,” he murmurs, knowing he’s being absolutely stupid, nuzzling into Mika’s chin anyway because he’s weak. “I have to go South. It’s my orders.”

The displeasure and unease leaves in an instant, and Mika sighs long and easy into Arashi’s hair. “Nnn…I don’t wanna go.” He doesn’t squirm out of the blanket to free his arms and legs yet, but he’s thinking about it. Arashi is another layer of warmth even on the stone, and Mika’s eyes lid. “But I’m not leavin’ you. The South is no good…I can’t let y’run around there by yourself…no one else knows the stuff I do.” 

“It’s not like I’m going to _live_ there,” Arashi explains gently. “No more than I’m living in the North right now. We’re just going to set up a huge camp at the edge of town. The Inglings don’t even _go_ there, they’re terrified of the Sharps, the King is just...I don’t know. For some reason the Southern contingent wanted us to move down there because it looks biased if we’re up here, no matter that this is where the enemy was, idiots.”

“It’s because he wants all of you in his brothels.”

“....ehh? What?”

“Mm. All the brothels down there are owned by the crown, y’know.” Arashi doesn’t know, and that’s fine. It’s probably good that most people don’t. “They like sendin’ armies down there ‘cause all of y’all are really horny.”

Arashi scowls. “Damn. That means a lot of work for me, you know. I’ve got three thousand men to move down there, that’s a _lot_ of disease to deal with. Not to mention fights, babies, camp followers...ugh. What do they think of bastards down there?” Mika would know. “I mean, because in the North here they seem to care a lot, but in the Capital it doesn’t seem to matter--but up here they don’t care whether you lie with men or women. I’m confused.”

“Bastards of whores work in the brothels.” Mika doesn’t even bat an eye as he says it, but he shifts, discreetly freeing his arms from the blanket to get them around Arashi’s waist. “Girls or boys, doesn’t matter. Mm, if the boys grow up ugly, though, they get booted to the streets or stick around to beat up patrons that don’t pay, if they grow up real strong and can make money like that.”

_You grew up pretty,_ Arashi thinks, though he doesn’t say it aloud. They’ve never actually talked about Mika’s childhood, but from what he knows and what he’s seen, they don’t have to. “Is it something that respectable people talk about? It sounds like there are a lot of brothels, are there going to be enough for all the men? How clean are they? Sorry to ask, I only just found out about this...”

“Oh, there’s enough. That’s th’ point. Every street’s got at least one.” Mika hesitates, slowly worrying his lower lip with his teeth. “How clean they are depends on how expensive they are. You’ve got the high class ones right in the middle of town, but the further out you go, closer to the actual deserts, those are the ones that are bad. Not enough water to drink, let alone bathe, y’know? But the crown makes a lot of money like that, and whores have lots of babies, so it’s easy to replace us when we die.” The lapse of speech goes unnoticed by Mika, and he idly slides his fingers underneath Arashi’s uniform to press his nails into his back muscles. Nice. “Noblemen have their favorite girls and talk about ‘em all the time. Noblewomen have their favorite boys and talk about ‘em all the time. And vice versa, but they don’t talk about that as much. It’s not like up here, where no one cares who you’re kissin’, but it’s not like the capital, either, where they’ll snub you. Everyone does what they want, jus’…some more quietly, heh.” 

Arashi groans, burying his face in Mika’s shoulder. “This is going to be the _worst_. I’m going to have to...hmm. Do something. I can’t just let them run roughshod. I don’t want to have everyone remember that time the soldiers came to the Sandlands and left behind disease and a thousand bastards. Maybe I can...work out some kind of token program with the highest-class ones, where I’ll guarantee them exclusive contractsor something? Ugh, this isn’t what I thought I signed up for when I became Captain. Maybe I should just cordon off the whole camp and shoot anyone that tries to buy a whore.” He’s only half-kidding.

“The king’ll be pissed if y’do that,” Mika says. “I’m tellin’ you, that’s why he’s sending y’all down there…you’re not the first army that’s come runnin’ through, it happens all the time.” He shrugs, snuggling closer, kicking off his blankets entirely now in favor of winding all four bare limbs around Arashi. “You can try to set up contracts and stuff…but the expensive ones are reeeeally expensive. Most of your men can’t afford that, heh.” 

Arashi’s pulse spikes, and he can’t quite keep himself from nuzzling against Mika’s cheek, even knowing as he does that this is a bad choice, that he doesn’t trust himself nearly enough to be this close. They’re cheek to cheek now, all limbs entwined, and only the thick blanket tangled between them keeps them from being on the wrong side of a death penalty. “Okay, what’s your suggestions, then? Do your--do the whores down there spread fatal or disfiguring diseases like they do in the West? Do they have medicines and ways of treating stuff?”

“Dunno. I mean, I never saw anything super gross. It’s too hot down there for the typical diseases, I think.” Mika purrs, low and rumbly, and his painted fingers drag up Arashi’s back, idly hiking up his uniform and undershirt to pet down his bare spine. Stupid? Definitely. His eyes unfocus, just for a moment, as he listens—but the air is quiet, and that makes him unafraid, and bold. “If people are missing limbs’n’stuff, it’s because they sold ‘em off, not because fever took it. The high-class girls have medicines to keep from getting knocked up all the time, though. They wait ‘till it’s a really hot guy to let that happen. They can make a percentage of what their kid makes, so obviously, they want a pretty one.” His lips purse. “They’d want you. The snake. Men like that.” 

“Of course, darling. Everyone wants me.” Arashi’s breath hitches, and he purses his lips, trying not to be stupid. Finally, he has to say something, because his emotions aren’t going to let him much longer. “Mika, darling, we can’t go this far, this is too much.”

The noise Mika makes is decidedly displeased. “You’ve been ignoring me,” he grouses, flexing his nails in slowly. “I don’t want you to go to the South and climb in bed with a bunch of whores.” 

Arashi exhales, letting his eyes close. “I’m trying to be good, darling. Have you ever known me to climb into bed with one whore, let alone a bunch of them? Like grapes?”

“Yeah. That snake. You smell like him right now.” 

“Izumi isn’t a whore. Be nice. We swore a blood pact, and no one wanted to kill a child, so sex was the only way. You know that.”

“He makes my eyes hurt. I don’t like him.” 

“Eh?” Arashi has known Mika for years now, and that particular phrase makes him open his eyes, frowning. “What do you mean, he makes your eyes hurt? Like when there’s a glamour on someone? Or like he’s possessed?”

“No, like…” Mika struggles to put it into words, words that a normal, non-wizard human will understand. He can speak what sounds like nonsense to Shu all day and he understands immediately, but translating not only to a tongue he fumbles with, anyway, _then_ to someone that isn’t a wizard… “Like how Ritsu does,” he finally settles upon. 

“But you said Ritsu made your eyes hurt because he isn’t completely human. Is that...” Arashi’s eyes widen. “Is that it? Izumi--are you saying he isn’t totally human?”

“Mm. Yeah, that’s it. He’s creepy, like a snake, not like a snog.” 

“Hm.” Arashi considers pursuing that line of thought for a moment, then dismisses it. “Well, then he’ll be really unhappy when we go South where it’s warm, if he really is something. I’ll confront him when it matters. But I’ve got another question to ask. Are the body-snatchers offering high enough prices that I have to worry about my men selling off their parts? Or is it only orphan children and ugly whores that get that desperate?”

“Not gonna happen. The South’s good for soldiers because the king wants y’all there, remember?” Mika lurches forward again, nuzzling into Arashi’s neck, exhaling a warm, slow breath there. “Y’shouldn’t be making blood pacts with half-bloods, _kara_ ,” he breathes. “It doesn’t do shit.” 

“It doesn’t?”

Arashi’s heart sinks. There were four people sworn to that pact, and none of them are safe if any of them spills their secrets. Tsukasa won’t--can’t--and Arashi can’t and won’t. He’d trust Ritsu with his life after all he knows about the man...but Izumi? Can he be trusted? 

Time will tell, he supposes. Time, and perhaps he may need to have a “conversation” with him soon.

“I’ll handle it,” he promises, because Mika is so distracting. “Don’t worry about me. Oh...I wanted to ask.” 

His hand ventures up, and he brushes the hair out of Mika’s face, looking down at the blue eye. “Is there something I’m supposed to call you in return? When you call me _kara_? Because I would.”

Mika’s breath hitches, and suddenly, nothing else _really_ matters. He could spend his time reassuring that Izumi doesn’t know shit, and probably thinks he’s still bound by the pact anyway, because he’s an idiot, but that’s really unimportant when Arashi is touching him and…saying things like that. 

He licks his lips, laser-focused on Arashi’s mouth…or maybe his hands, both _distracting_. Other wizards have it easy, he’s always secretly thought. Most of them were snatched up so young that the concept of sex and pleasure hadn’t been driven into their brains yet, so taking that out of the picture didn’t matter. 

They also don’t have gorgeous knights or captains paying them any mind constantly, he guesses.

“ _Amaka_.” Mika’s head tilts. “They’re from the phrase ‘ _amakara hlengiwe imanikara_ ’, which…nnnh…I’m not good at translatin’,” he complains, leaning his head back. “But the feel is like…being homesick for the person y’love, that kinda thing. You don’t use those words unless you’re married, heh.” 

Arashi’s heart flutters, in the stupid, embarrassing way that it only does around Mika, the weird, creepy, awkward, night-blooming flower that he’s somehow decided to follow for the rest of his life. “You should give me a token to carry into battle,” he whispers, keeping his voice down just in case someone is walking by the stoneroom. “Like the great knights do with their ladies’ handkerchiefs. I’ll wear it by my heart, _a...amaka_ , is that right?”

Mika’s eyes glitter, and he nods before he suddenly lurches up, his mouth hot against the side of Arashi’s neck. “Just like that,” he murmurs, his fingers twisting up into the front of Arashi’s uniform. “Nnn, Arashiii, if we’re goin’ to the _far_ South, you’re gonna want to keep me real close~…they like to trick fancy nobles and I can speak the language, y’know?” 

“Mika, darling, be careful,” Arashi pleads, feeling his body rouse immediately, even if he can’t bring himself to leave. It’s his own fault, at the end of the day, because he’s just not strong enough, just not brave enough to push him away. “I’m begging you, don’t make it harder than it already is.”

A low, frustrated sound leaves Mika’s throat, and his hand immediately slides lower, grabbing at Arashi’s laces unrepentantly. “You smell like that snake, and it pisses me off,” he says, sudden and aggressive in how he presses closer, a thigh shoved between Arashi’s legs as his mouth attacks the lobe of his ear, nipping, sucking. “No one’s listening,” he whispers. “If you want me, this is a good time.” 

Arashi reaches before he can think, grabbing Mika and pressing a hot kiss to his cheek, then his neck, then moves to his mouth before sanity reasserts itself and he wrenches his head back, yanking the blanket up over Mika’s face, his chest heaving. “M-Mika, amaka, darling, please, I’m not that strong, if we do it once I’ll never be able to stop--”

Mika, undeterred, grabs at Arashi’s hand from underneath the blanket, dragging it to his mouth in the next instant. His teeth catch in the leather of Arashi’s gloves, then rips them off with a firm jerk, his tongue dragging immediately over the tip of his thumb. “I’ll stop you,” he reassures Arashi, though he’s not sure how he’ll ever be able to. He probably doesn’t sound all that convincing, either, with how his voice is breathy and overly eager. “The snake says he’ll fix things, doesn’t he? I’ll be nice to him if you let me believe that, so please…” 

A breathy shudder goes through Arashi. It’s too late to stop, he knows it, when Mika’s tongue touches his thumb he’ll never be able to stop. He curls his thumb, dragging it over the flat of his tongue, and tries hard to make a decision. 

He reaches down, rubbing between Mika’s legs with one hand through the blanket. He expects to find the hard flat plane of his weird underwear--he’s gotten this far, shameful as it is, before--and to find nothing but soft thighs and a hard cock makes him groan, eyes closing. “Mika, you’re so _bad_ , are you _trying_ to get me killed?”

“Stop sayin’ that,” Mika murmurs around Arashi’s thumb before he sucks it into his mouth, his fingers curling around Arashi’s wrist to keep his hand close even as his thighs spread. Arashi’s hands make him tremble, his toes curling uselessly against blankets and stone, and he wriggles his way closer, a little gasp escaping at the contact. “ _Karaa_ …touch me, you feel good…”

If it’s through the blanket, maybe it doesn’t count. Arashi doesn’t believe that, but maybe, _maybe_ , it’ll at least be enough of a technicality that he won’t be flayed alive if anyone finds out, and won’t trigger the weird alarm system that’s alerted magic-sniffers like Ritsu’s friend to wizard-lovers in the past. 

Either way, dead or alive, he can’t stop now.

His hand curls, enough to feel the shape of Mika’s hard cock in his hand, rubbing and squeezing against it with every tug of his hand. He’s already on the edge just from how close they are, from how urgent this feels, enough that he’s hiccupping for breath. “ _Amaka_ ,” he breathes, trying to be gentle, knowing this can’t be the best texture in the world. “Gods, just let me see your beautiful face when you come, I swear I’ll be satisfied until I die--”

If they’re going to do this, if Arashi is going to die— _no, no, don’t think of that part_ —then they’re going to do this _exactly_ how Mika wants to. 

Mika shifts, squirming, yanking the blanket away and tossing it to the side before he leaps on Arashi, flushed and hungry and with his mouth already hot against Arashi’s ear as he straddles his hips. “You’re mine,” he breathes, his eyes all but glowing, as his own hand drags to Arashi’s cock, squeezing it through fabric, then yanking the laces open with deft fingers to slide his hand down and actually touch bare skin. How hard Arashi is makes Mika whimper, and he nips at the lobe of Arashi’s ear before his tongue slides up along the edge of it. “So treat me like I’m yours.” 

It’s too late.

Arashi knows deep in his heart, with the fragment of his mind still capable of knowing anything, that this was over the second his feet touched the warming stone. That was it, his first and last opportunity to walk away. He’d come closer, and closer, knowing deep in his heart that all along it would lead here.

He kicks off his breeches with prejudice, seizing Mika’s mouth in his for a kiss he’s wanted to give for the better part of a decade, hot and wet and seeking, yearning, truly understanding what it means to be homesick for someone sitting right in front of him. 

He doesn’t bother preparing Mika, reaching down, making it good, any of it. He ruts up, blind and stupid with lust, grinding his hard cock against Mika’s, already on the edge, so close he can taste it, so close he aches, when the two of them are naked and kissing and tangled up in each other after so long. The alarm bells are probably already ringing, he knows, but at least he’ll die for grabbing the one thing he’s ever loved, pressing down against him with deep, firm grinds of his hips, kissing him so hard it’s as if they’ll never part. “Amaka,” he moans, Mika’s waist in his hands, feeling so tiny and fragile when the man is anything but.

Mika’s hands are desperate when they grab for Arashi’s hair, sinking in and clinging to him as his breath escapes hot and desperate. Arashi’s hands against him are rough and demanding, and it makes him nearly come right then and there when every little fantasy he’s ever been wrapped up in comes to fruition. 

If they kill Arashi, he’s just going to have to die, too—that’s all there is to it. 

He sucks on Arashi’s tongue with a muffled groan, his nails scraping down to Arashi’s shoulders where he has a better chance of holding on for dear life with every single reflexive arch and grind of his body. “Y’feel so good,” he gasps out, his teeth sharp against Arashi’s lower lip. “ _Kara_ —I’m—“

He dissolves with a whimper, his face hot as the sudden slickness between them makes it all the better to move against Arashi, even if he’s suddenly too shaky to be of much help. 

It doesn’t matter if Mika moves or not. Arashi is so hot, on the edge already with just Mika’s breath in his ear, and when Mika moves against him, he’s lost. 

It’s unlike any orgasm he’s ever had, because it’s _Mika_ , because this is what he’s wanted for years, because for once in his life the one grabbing at him and breathing his name is the one he loves most. He sobs when he comes, clinging with arms that are trying, god, he’s trying not to grab too tightly, but he’s probably messing that up, too. 

He presses another hot kiss to Mika’s mouth, unwilling to open his eyes yet, wanting to stay in the moment as long as he possibly can, wanting to stay happy, healthy, _together_.

Mika stretches and purrs, stroking and petting his fingers slowly through Arashi’s hair, nuzzling and kissing along his neck. He can feel the little fingerprints of bruises underneath Arashi’s fingers and relishes in them. Maybe he’ll panic about them later—who knows?—but right now, nothing feels better, being sweaty and sticky and pressed skin-to-skin with the man that he’s considered leveling the entire capital for. 

_I still might_ , Mika darkly thinks, absently sucking on the lobe of Arashi’s ear, his teeth a gentle scrape against it. “Even if they caught us,” he absently, morbidly thinks, “they might believe I seduced you, ‘cuz it’s me.” 

Reality sets in. Arashi presses a firm, fond kiss to Mika’s cheek, then stands, tousling his hair as he does. The despair he’d been expecting doesn’t come. Instead, it’s replaced with a cool, comforting sense of purpose. “Don’t worry, _amaka_ ,” he says with a cheery smile, pulling on his trousers, then finding his sword belt, pulling off the peace tie and tucking it into his pocket. “I’ll take care of it. Wait here.”

Mika sighs. He flops back down onto the warming stone, chin in his hands as he rolls onto his stomach. “You’re not even gonna let me lick you clean before you go?” he asks. “Oh well. I’ll sew you something cute.” _Don’t die until then._

Arashi gives Mika a bright, cheerful wink. “Of course, darling. It better be as cute as you are, or I’ll just put it aside and kiss you instead.”

And with that, he heads out to find the magic-sniffer.

It isn’t difficult, when he’s the Captain. He always makes it his business to know where all his men are stationed, and it’s easy to find the man called Mao.

He hasn’t been in love with a wizard for a decade without knowing the protocol. The sniffer gets the signal, sends the message, and the full force of the Academy’s dark power comes down on the offender. None of it can be stopped. Only one man has ever eluded the hunters, and he wasn’t human. 

So Arashi moves fast, and doesn’t knock, kicking open the door to Mao’s room so hard the latch goes flying, and he enters, sword already unsheathed and pointed at the man’s throat. “Hello! Let’s talk.”

Mao’s hands immediately come up, the quill in his grasp fluttering back down to the desk in front of him. He doesn’t particularly look surprised, and he sits unmoving, staring back at Arashi as he heaves a long sigh. “Please do me a favor and lower that thing, Sir Arashi.”

“Ah, no.” 

Arashi kicks the door shut without taking his eyes off of Mao. He tips his sword, impaling the letter Mao had been writing, then holding it to the nearby candle’s flame. “Nothing to lose, you understand,” he says, not particularly apologetic. “I know, I know, no one runs and gets away, but I’m _really_ fast, so I’m going to make a go of it. If killing you gets me a headstart, I’m going to do it.”

“That isn’t a letter you need to burn.” 

Mao lowers his hands, setting them on the desk in front of him so that Arashi doesn’t think he’s trying to reach for a dagger or anything equally useless. He’s not stupid; trying to face this man in combat would be a death sentence. “Read it if you want. It’s to a friend of mine in the East.” He stares back at Arashi, blinking slowly. “He wasn’t wrong,” he simply adds, “no one was listening.” 

“But you lot don’t just listen, do you? You watch, and you smell, and you sense in other ways, right?” Arashi flicks his eyes around the room, but doesn’t lower his sword, and it doesn’t waver in the slightest. “Tell me the truth and I’ll let you live,” he says, letting the letter drop off the end of the blade. “Because you’re Ritsu’s friend. How long until they come?”

“Your knowledge about this entire process is actually a little unnerving? Ah…I don’t have time for this.” Mao sighs again, briefly shutting his eyes. “It’s impossible for me not to _know_ about something like…that.” Not mentioning it by names absolves him of quite a bit, thankfully. “That doesn’t mean anyone else knows what I know, unless I _let_ them know, as you obviously think I already have. I haven’t.” 

“Why not?” Arashi demands. His heart isn’t thudding so hard anymore, though it feels more like when he’s in the heat of battle than when he’s doing something truly frightening. Battle has always felt good to him, and this does, too. “You think it’s your holy mission to stop us, right? So why haven’t you sent the message?”

“You’re mistaking me for the Academy itself,” Mao wearily points out. “Which is…troublesome. Ahh, I can’t tell you why, explicitly. That would be betraying my other master, and I would be dead far swifter by his hand than yours if I did that. All I’ll say is…if I were to report this, the wizard in question would absolutely be taken away. The resultant reaction from the other wizard in your domain would be…catastrophic, and between the two of them throwing their resultant fits, it would be…ugh.” He rubs at the bridge of his nose. “So, even if I weren’t following orders, I probably would hesitate to say anything anyway, because there are too few men alive capable of dealing with the aftermath of such a thing.” 

Arashi’s mouth twists. “Speak plainly. I’m a soldier, not a diplomat.”

“The wizards you have in your possession are too powerful and volatile, Milord, and warrant special consideration.” 

That sounds...false. Arashi narrows his eyes. “Even plainer. What happens next?”

“Nothing. That doesn’t mean this should continue indiscriminately,” Mao swiftly adds, leaning forward where he sits. “Because if it does, I _will_ be forced to take action.” 

A breath in, then out. “You’re saying this is a warning,” Arashi says, watching Mao very carefully. “If this is a lie, tell me now. I will spare your life, I swear, but...I don’t mind facing death. I just don’t want it to come in that way that the Academy’s hunters deal it out. If it’s a choice between that, I’ll gladly let you kill me here and now to spare Mika.”

“I’m saying,” Mao patiently says, slowly rising to his feet, his hands lifting to make sure Arashi doesn’t react by running him through, “that I won’t report it. I’ve been given my orders, Milord.” He pauses, and then adds, very carefully, “Do you believe I honestly feel nothing of what transpires with Ritsu—or what his existence is, wholly—and still serve the Academy?” 

Arashi’s eyes narrow to slits. His hand doesn’t waver on his sword, but he feels the prick of nervous sweat on the back of his neck. “You’re...a spy. Then you’re endangering your mission by covering for me. Who gives your orders?”

“I’m not endangering my mission if covering up what you’re doing coincides with my mission, Milord.” 

“I asked you who gives your orders,” Arashi says softly, stepping forward so the tip of his blade is a hairsbreadth from Mao’s throat, the blade just barely touching his chin. “Army security, you understand. I’d never sacrifice the lives of my men to cover my misdeeds.”

Mao feels a trickle of sweat drip down his spine. “If you kill me, you’ll have someone that isn’t sympathetic to you or your needs breathing down your neck.” 

“And you’re very sympathetic,” Arashi says, obviously skeptical. “So sympathetic that you waited to tell me how sympathetic you were until I had a sword pointed at your face.”

“Yes, Milord. That’s part of being a spy, Milord. Being convincing is almost the entire battle; keeping one’s mouth shut is the rest of it. If I had reported you, you would already have been captured by now.” Mao sucks in a slow breath. “My requests are handled with the highest priority. But as it is, here you are, still capable of threatening me.” 

Finally, Arashi sheathes his sword. “If you’re telling the truth,” he says quietly, “you will have a champion in me, when you declare for your side. If you betray me...you had better hope your hunters are as fast as everyone says they are. Because I’m very fast.”

“So I’ve heard.” Mao rocks back onto his heels, his pulse thudding too-fast only now that Arashi has sheathed his sword, and he flops back into his chair, burying his face into one hand. “Honestly…you should have believed me just based on the carnage your two wizards would cause…” 

Arashi shrugs his sword arm, working out some of the nervous tension. “The Academy doesn’t always do the smart thing,” he points out. “So. What do I need to know? What can and can’t I do, who is and isn’t safe, whose side are you on, are you recruiting in my army?”

“The Academy is in no place to be anything but smart right now,” Mao mutters, kneading away at his budding headache. “But that’s neither here nor there. Quite frankly, when I’m around, I don’t care what you do so long as you aren’t foolish about flaunting your, ah, excursions. My presence alone blocks the acting of anyone else that would be listening, watching, hearing. This time, you were lucky. I’m not here for anything other than an Academy-related task, and that’s just traveling through, delivering my current charge.” He pauses, and firmly adds: “Let me be very clear. When I leave, keep your hands off of him until I come back.” 

That, at least, makes sense, and Arashi hears the words behind them-- _because someone else will be watching._ He’d gotten embarrassingly lucky; every town has someone talented enough, if not fifty of them, to hear forbidden behavior, and the rewards for reporting are powerful. It had been dumb luck that he’d picked out Mao, and that he’s apparently a strong enough sniffer to block anyone else who might come looking, for now. Slowly, he nods, and folds his arms. “What do you want in exchange?”

“I’m not working for you, keeping this under wraps just coincides with what I’m doing, anyway,” Mao exasperatedly points out. “But if you’re going to grant me something, fine, I have a few requests. Make sure Ritsu is on his best behavior when I’m away, keep him on a proper sleeping schedule, and don’t let him go out in the cold improperly clothed. I don’t like the Sena heir, and I’d prefer he didn’t associate with Ritsu more than necessary. Ahh…what else…” 

“You’re not working for Izumi?” Arashi asks, suddenly _very_ skeptical. If there’s a third force at work, this is bigger than he’d anticipated. But Mao doesn’t act as if he’s working for Ritsu, not when he sounds so concerned with Ritsu walking around without mittens. “What’s your master’s end goal?”

“…Why would I be working for that brat?” Mao incredulously asks. “He’s nothing but a country hick playing at being a knight. Milord, I thought we went over this? A large part of my job is keeping my mouth shut. All I can say is that the main reason I’m not reporting you is because of your, ah, love interest’s relation to your other wizard. It’s important to my master that Shu remains happy and whole.” 

For all that Arashi has heard, Shu is just an especially insane young wizard with weird lofty ideas that has a penchant for blowing things up when reality coincides painfully with his mental state. But apparently, he isn’t seeing nearly enough of the full picture. He nods slowly, as if he understands. “All right. I accept what you’re saying. And I’ll do my part and keep my distance whenever you’re gone. Politics aren’t my favorite thing, so I’ll stay a simple soldier. We’re headed down South anyway, so we should be out of your hair soon enough.” 

And because it’s apparently keeping him alive, he asks archly, “Is there anything that his Excellency Shu might require, on the journey?”

_So long as Ritsu is traveling with you, you can’t expect me to be out of_ your _hair._ “Ask him, not me,” Mao wearily replies. “I honestly don’t know him that well. He’s my master’s interest, not mine.” He hesitates, then adds, “If your special interest has trouble believing that you aren’t about to be dead because of him, you can mention all of this—but not me by name.”

“Oh, I’m just going to tell him I killed the magic sniffer,” Arashi says cheerfully. “Sounds a lot more believable than stumbling on a secret triple-blind plot involving his master, don’t you think?”

“Not really? If you killed me, then they _really_ would have come for you.” 

“All right...like I said, I’m a soldier, not a diplomat. Tell me what to tell my nervous wizard so he feels at-ease.”

“Just tell him it’s because of his master’s patron. He’ll believe you, and it’s not like it’s a lie.” 

“How did everyone know that Shu had a patron except me? How does a wizard even--isn’t he supposed to be my wizard?”

“…As you’ve pointed out several times during this conversation, Milord, you don’t really pay attention to things if they don’t involve warfare in some way.” 

Arashi almost objects to that, but it’s true, so he just smiles instead. “Well! Then I’ve got some apologies to make. Oh, and when are you leaving?” Not that he’s planning on making the most of it while Mao is here, after all. It’s one thing in the Capital, or the South, where there are hundreds of magic sniffers. Here in the North, where there’s just one? That sounds like the time to take advantage.

“Tomorrow morning.” Mao’s expression is wry. “You know, you _could_ apologize to _me_ , for pointing your sword in my face.” 

“Oh, grow up, I didn’t cut you even a little. I didn’t even push you, I’m much meaner to my friends.” Arashi winks, and opens the door. “Sorry, gotta go, very busy!”

The idea that Mika has actually stayed where he’s told sounds a bit unbelievable, but Arashi _had_ asked him to stay put. He dashes back to the stoneroom, and almost collapses with relief, seeing Mika still huddled under the blanket. “Hello, darling.”

Mika jumps nearly out of his skin, bolting upright into a sitting position and yanking the blanket with him to cover himself. It’s a rather ladylike gesture, but it’s nerves that makes him do it, makes him think it isn’t Arashi that’s burst in to see him again but instead someone else posing as him to trick him—until he really looks, of course, and his heart rate slows down a beat or two. “Arashi,” he whispers, still wary, having had enough time to really process what he’d done doing his anxiety no favors. “Are you…are they coming? I…I’ll slow you down, if you need to run…” 

“It’s all fine.” Arashi takes off his sword belt, hanging it on a hook by the front door, and settles in next to Mika, pulling him close against his chest. “We got really lucky. C’mere, _amaka_ , we have until the morning.”

“…Explain,” Mika demands, even as he lets Arashi pull him close, finding it difficult to resist even if he doesn’t entirely understand. His hands rest against Arashi’s chest, fingers slowly drumming. “I knew no one was listenin’, but…” 

“But the sniffer was,” Arashi says gently. “And we’re lucky, because he’s strong enough that no one else heard us. Looks like he’s working for your master’s patron, so really, we couldn’t have been luckier.”

“Ooooh.” That makes a world of sense, and relief floods through Mika’s body, pitching him forward to enthusiastically drape his arms around Arashi’s neck. “I _knew_ it felt right,” he sighs giddily, his mouth going for one of Arashi’s earrings, tongue snaking around it and gently pulling on it with his teeth. “Mm…my instincts are still the best. Ahh, Master’s so lucky, havin’ someone like that, and now he’s lookin’ out for me, too…”

“Ehhhh, Mika, darling, you know who it is, you know what’s going on?” Arashi tugs on Mika’s hair, still dizzy, unable to believe that this is real, it’s happening, they’re not dying immediately. “Who is it, what’s happening, I don’t want to be left out!”

“You don’t know?” Mika returns, quizzical when he tilts his head back with the tug on his hair. “Ehh…Arashi only cares about swords, for _real_ ,” he complains. “I thought _everyone_ knew, that’s why they let Master take me with him and all that.” 

He leans back, eyes tracing down the front of Arashi’s uniform with his fingers following behind, idly undoing the fastenings as he goes. “Master’s lover is _really_ strong,” he hums. “And has eyes everywhere. If the King of Demons is keeping an eye on my master again, he’ll be really happy, for sure.” 

Arashi blinks. “Eh? King of Demons? I thought that was just a campfire story to tease gullible recruits, are you saying that’s a real person?”

“Of course he’s a real person,” Mika admonishes, staring up at him. “He’s the _King of Demons._ Super scary, really creepy. He loves Master a lot, though.” 

Mika flops onto his back, stretching out on the warming stone with a flutter of his eyelashes, soaking in the warmth as he lifts a hand towards the ceiling. In the grey light filtering into the room, the vague shadows cast there from heavy steam and lanterns shift, forming the silhouette of a tall, lean man with long curling hair and a cloak draped about his shoulders. “I only met him once.” Shu’s unmistakable silhouette follows, almost as tall next to the King of Demons, who reaches out with long fingers to grasp Shu’s wrist and pull him into an obviously intimate embrace. “Or, well…I kinda walked in on them,” he wryly admits. “I’ve seen a lot of pretty people, but…he was…I don’t even know how to explain it. My master was right to be swept off his feet.” 

Arashi’s mouth parts, and he leans forward, watching the play of shadows under Mika’s skillful direction. This is art of the likes that very wealthy people pay to see--art of the likes that a mere Knight who commands the third-largest army in the realm, who has his own estate with thousands of servants, could never dream of being able to afford. This is the kind of art that Kings can command-- _and my lover does it to avoid explaining things._

“Is he human? What makes him a King of Demons? What kind of interest does he have in your Master? Ahhh, I knew I should have paid more attention to my tutors...”

“Master’s kinda shy about talkin’ about him,” Mika admits with a grin, “because he doesn’t like admittin’ how smitten he is. But he’s still told me a lot, when he’s all drunk and floppy.” 

Shu’s silhouette filters away, and the King of Demons’ shifts in a spray of shadowy little feathers, the cloak disappearing, replaced by strange, grotesque wings. “A lot of people say he’s half-demon, but that can mean anything. At this point, he’s so old…he’s probably more his other half than he is human.” Mika’s fingers curl and so does the silhouette’s, revealing long, claw-like nails on each shadowy finger. “I’d ask if y’knew about the Shadowlands, but no one does. Rumor has it he lives there now… _if_ the rumors on any given day say he’s alive. He obviously is, though…he loves my master dearly, that’s why he’s watchin’ him now.” 

The shadows shift, pooling and stacking until they can twist suddenly into thousands and thousands of flowers, building an enormous rose garden as the wings on the man’s silhouette filter away. “When he bloomed, they say it looked like that. Life, instead of death—that kinda thing doesn’t happen anymore.”

Arashi whistles low through his teeth, eyes wide as he surveys the chaotic, sprouting mess of flowers, somehow bringing a sense of sweet hope with them. Arashi vividly remembers what it had been like when Mika had bloomed, with the monstrous shadow creatures terrorizing the city, leaving the dead in his wake. “Makes you understand why they called it blooming,” he says softly, giving Mika’s waist a squeeze. “It’s crazy that you’ve met him. All I ever heard is that he’s from the Shadowlands, and he eats recruits who fall asleep on nightwatch, and he can turn into a griffon.”

“That’s pretty dumb. I know a lot of random stuff about him, but nothin’ like that.” Mika sticks out his tongue, and wiggles his fingers, the entire shadow theatre fluttering off into oblivion. “Master likes to ramble on about him when he’s tipsy, like I said. When I met him, he was real nice, but…still kinda scary, you know? My eyes hurt a lot, I could barely even look at him. He had a soft voice, pretty hands, long legs, and my master acted as weak as a kitten around him. You wouldn’t believe he was the same person, heh.” 

Arashi’s eyebrows fly even higher. “Your master-- _Shu_ \--was giggly and weak as a kitten? The man that told me I should only open my mouth if it’s to praise him, but I hadn’t even earned that right yet?”

“Yeeeep. It was real cute, but don’t tell him I said that.” Mika’s mouth twists, and he pulls the shadows together again on a whim, letting them play out the scene of the King of Demons neatly catching Shu around the waist to drag him close, and Shu’s huffy, flustered resignation before being easily kissed. “His lover’s real sweet to him. Talkin’ to my master…that was the first time I kinda realized that most wizards hadn’t, y’know, done it before going to the Academy,” Mika idly notes. “He was askin’ _me_ for advice that time.” 

“I mean, most wizards aren’t at puberty yet, right? Most of the ones I hear of are really young...I know quite a few must have histories like you, but don’t wizards talk about this kind of thing between themselves? Ah,” Arashi admits, laughing a little, “I have no idea what the Academy is really like, I suppose? Is it...well, I hope it wasn’t just horrible all day every day.”

“Boring,” Mika offers up, and the shadows fade away again in favor of him snuggling up into Arashi’s chest. “No one talks about it ‘cuz no one wants to get in trouble, which really is annoying,” he complains. “Not as many wizards are like me as you’d think. There’s a lot of kids from bad places and stuff, but when I went there…no one was like me. The teachers and stuff, they were so annoyin’ about it, refused to let me be near anyone for a long time. Not that I wanted to be near anyone, but…” He shrugs, his brow furrowing in irritation. “It’s like they think all the bad stuff that happens is gonna seep into everyone else. I think the whole holy, purity stuff is bullshit, anyway, and their constant shovin’ of it down my throat made me believe it even less, go figure.” He’s going to take _full_ advantage of this no-one-listening thing, he sure is. 

“Let me guess,” Arashi says, stroking through Mika’s hair with one hand. “They took it a lot more seriously than they did in the Capital. The priests talk, but it’s sort of a joke. No one really cares about it, they just say the words to make the priests happy and then go about their way, unless they’re like, trying to get the ear of the King. Were your Academy masters...what did they say about the King, by the way?”

“That he’s so brave, and strong, and smart, and passionate…” Mika drawls, his eyes rolling. “And he jus’ wants what’s best for us, that’s why we’re all here, _obviously._ Ahh, it’s the worst. If it weren’t for my master, though I’d be stuck in the capital. The king wanted me ‘cuz I’m…nnn…” Mika waves a hand, searching for the word, and failing. “Like I said, there’s not a lot of ‘em like me in there. Most of the wizards from the South…they’re not the kind from the Sandlands, they’re the kind from the farms.”

Arashi tries to process that, and frowns, stuck on some of the word choice. “Hmm...what did the king want you for, darling? I mean, obviously you’re beautiful, but from everything I’ve heard, our King has rather...specialized tastes, and you aren’t to them.” Specifically, the king has a taste for little girls in twintails, but no one talks about that if they want to keep their head.

“Oh. Heh. No, the King didn’t want me like that. One of his big-name court advisors liked me like that, which…really brought it up in the first place, I guess? But the real reason—what’s the word… _kritanta_ , ah, dead things.” Mika hesitates. “Necromancy, that’s it.” Things he doesn’t explicitly talk about, even to Arashi, to the point that the word has slipped away. For how close they are, it’s always been better that Arashi knew relatively little about what could get them both in a hell of a lot of trouble. “It’s forbidden. But I’m the first one that could do it in forty-something years.” 

Arashi gives Mika a hefty squeeze. “First of all, you’re absolutely never leaving my side in the Sandlands,” he says frankly. “If those Southerners talk like you, I’m going to get ripped off all the damn time. Someone’s got to be able to negotiate with them. Hmm...Ah, you’re probably going to think I’m stupid, but I thought that when wizards bloomed, they just manifested some weird thing that killed a bunch of people, are you saying those are powers that the wizard actually keeps? Yours were....” A shiver runs down his spine. He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t really need to.

“Mmmhm.” Mika’s eyes lid, and he kicks his feet a little, squirming in Arashi’s hold. “Most Southerners can speak the common tongue, but they’ll pretend they can’t to fuck with you,” he bluntly says. “But yeah, those little ghosties, those are miiine. From all the people that died within a certain radius, during a certain time…heh. You’re not supposed to know about that, but no one’s listenin’ right now, so I can talk about anythin’.” He tongue sticks out a little as he thinks. “There’s a lot more to it than that, but I’m not gonna like…demonstrate.” 

“Mm, no, please do not,” Arashi says quickly. “You can keep your, ah, lil’ ghosties. Too scary for me, I’d rather face real people that I can kill.” 

The words sink in, and he realizes a few things. “So,” he says slowly, trying to piece it all together, “The king and his warmakers want you to wreak havoc with your, ah, ghosties, but it’s scary and bad so you don’t want to, and they’d do it anyway, except this Demon King guy is threatening and scary and he loves your Master, and Shu is silly and hyperbolic but everyone is scared to go against him because that might piss the Demon King off, right? So, they let you pretty much do what you like, more than other wizards, at least, because if you go rogue it’s scary, but if anything happens to you, it’s potentially really scary for everyone else, right? Ugh, politics is _confusing_ , this is why I just hit things with swords.”

“Yeah, basically. ‘Cept you forgot the part where my master’s real scary, too, so it’s even _worse_.” Mika looks all sorts of pleased about this. “No one wants to make the King of Demons mad, buuut…no one wants to make Master mad, either. Y’know, _kara_ ,” he murmurs, nuzzling up underneath Arashi’s chin, “he stays ‘cause he likes you, kinda, even if he won’t say it. At least, it’s a lot easier jus’ stayin’ put and eatin’ honey rolls than runnin’ off with the King of Demons, but he won’t admit that.” 

Arashi blinks. “First, I’m confused that he likes me. I mean, I guess I knew he doesn’t _hate_ me, or I’d be dead...is he scarier than other wizards? I just know that you don’t piss him off, but I thought that was all of them, aren’t they all like that?”

Out of habit, he almost pushes Mika away, desperate to regain control before he dies, but apparently, he can do that for the moment. Well. _Nice_.

“Ah, nah, Master and I are the different ones,” Mika cheerfully says. “I bet they told you all wizards were like him because they didn’t want you to fuck up, huh? I mean, I guess that’s fair, pissin’ him off makes things explode pretty quick, and a big part of my magic—well, it’s not somethin’ they can train all that well, whoops. Nnh, pet me, your hands feel good, I miss being naked all the time.” 

“You must have been the worst child,” Arashi says fondly, nuzzling into Mika’s hair, obligingly petting his chest, his shoulders, his thighs, reveling in the fact that he _can_ , even if just for a night. It’s something he’d never thought he’d get to do, and a smile hovers around his lips, as if it’ll never leave. “Hey, quick question...could I kill your lil ghosties? Just for my own personal confidence.”

“Nope. They already dead, that’s why they’re so scary.” Mika purrs and stretches like a cat, slinging a leg over Arashi’s hips. “I was a bad kid,” he confirms with a smile. “But I’m still bad now.” 

“Yep, you’re the worst,” Arashi confirms, rolling over onto his back, reaching up to drag Mika on top of himself with an easy smile. “What would you have done if we’d been caught, hmm? And the hunters came for me?”

Mika pauses, tilting his head to the side as he sits back onto Arashi’s thighs, hands on Arashi’s chest. “Killed them,” he says simply, reaching up to push the heavy fall of his long, feathery hair off his shoulders and down his back instead. “All of ‘em.” 

“Scary,” Arashi says. He keeps his voice light, but the tone of his voice is anything but joking. “And keep killing when they send more, and more? Gods, Mika, _amaka_...you must really love me, huh?”

“I’d kill everyone in the whole world, then we’d be the only ones left.” Mika hesitates, biting his lip, his fingers absently running along the curve of Arashi’s jaw. “I thought it would be really scary to think like that,” he quietly says. “Turns out, you kissin’ me kinda…makes that part of my brain shut up.” 

“Maybe it was bad that I kissed you,” Arashi says softly. “Don’t be mad about me saying that. I just mean it’s going to be so much harder to go back to not kissing you, after tonight.”

“Mm, nah. Now I have something to look forward to.” Mika slowly flops down, sighing contently at how warm and _comfortable_ Arashi is to lie on top of. “I mean, if that snake doesn’t go through with his promise, I’ll definitely kill ‘im, but if he does…then we can be together just fine, right? Mmn, I’ve never met the prince, have you? I hope he’s really that good…” 

“He’s a good kid,” Arashi admits, dragging his hands down Mika’s back, feeling the bones peeking out of his ribcage. He’s got to get the camp cooks to feed this boy more. “I’ve met him a few times, and seen him more. I’d say he has a good heart, as a judge of people, and Izumi seems really willing to die for him. I don’t know anyone that would die for the king like that, you know? But...mm, you know that only happens after the king dies, if it happens. And he’s barely forty.”

“He’s gonna die soon, though. I can tell.” 

“That is so creepy,” Arashi says, and presses a huge kiss to Mika’s temple. “And adorable. How is a battlefield the place where you want to be if you can tell things like that?”

“You’re there,” Mika answers without skipping a beat. “And you’re only good at swords, so I ain’t got a choice. I gotta keep checking on you to make sure you’re not gonna die soon, or else.” 

“Um....oh.” That’s not entirely reassuring. “Is there...I mean, is there anything you can do, if it does look like I’m going to die soon?”

“Oh, I’ve done stuff before.” Mika smiles, butting his head underneath Arashi’s chin. “But you didn’t notice, so that’s good. Academy can’t say nothin’ about it, either, ‘cause you’re the one in charge of me, so I’m jus’ being good and protectin’ you, obviously.” 

A bigger chill goes down Arashi’s spine this time, and his fingers itch to get onto the hilt of his sword. That is, as everyone seems determined to point out today, what he’s good at. “Maybe that’s enough talking,” he says hesitantly, thinking of all the times he’d been heading out only for Mika to decide on a whim to come with him, and grabs a blanket, throwing it over both of them, dragging them into darkness. “Mm, that’s nicer, right?”

Mika sighs deeply in relief, closing his eyes gratefully for a moment. His vision is abysmally poor in the dark, but even dim light makes him strain to see properly, so seeing nothing at all is almost a blessing. “Yeah, that’s nice,” he murmurs, burying his face into Arashi’s neck. “Nn. Last thing. If you ever need to know…y’know, stuff like that, you can ask. I’ll tell you, about anyone you wanna know.” 

“Tempting,” Arashi admits, and because he’s a swordsman and a soldier at heart, he doesn’t reject the suggestion. Never throw away a tool you could use to keep yourself alive, after all. “I’ll try not to, but...does it hurt you? To see who’s going to die?”

That’s a weird question to answer, and Mika shifts, thinking. “Not…really? I mean, no more than lookin’ at anything normal. I see it everywhere. It’s there whether or not I wanna see it.” 

“What does it look like? Is it something you can describe to a normal human, even a really boring one who just hits things with a sword?”

“Like an hourglass. Every person is an hourglass.” Mika hesitates. “Usually. Ah, you’re not boring, you’re sexy.” 

“But you can, what, reset the hourglass? Ahhh, my head hurts, all I wanted to do today is tell you we’re going south and now I’ve ruined everything and found out you can see how long until I die, this is crazy...kiss me, make me feel better,” Arashi says with a huff, parting his thighs to let Mika lie between them.

“Sorry,” Mika says, not sounding all that apologetic at all, and he immediately squirms into place. “Don’t worry, _kara_. Every time y’kiss me, you live longer,” he cheerfully says, his fingers tiptoeing down Arashi’s thigh. “I don’t think y’ruined anythin’, either.” 

“Unless that sniffer was lying,” Arashi says softly. He reaches up and brushes the hair from Mika’s face, pulling him close enough for a kiss right on the mouth. “Or unless he was wrong about no one else being able to hear. I...you’re worth going to hell for, _amaka_. I believe that. So if it happens...” Arashi shrugs, helpless. “This dumb soldier thought it was worth it.”

“He wasn’t wrong. It’s still quiet. Ahh, it’s nice, Master must be so happy, too…”

Mika drags his hands back through Arashi’s hair, sighing as he kisses him again, gently scraping his lower lip with his teeth. “You should keep him,” he mutters. “Make him come south with us, yeah.” 

_For a kiss like that, I’d do anything_ , Arashi thinks, letting his hands drag down Mika’s back. With anyone else, feeling as he does, he’d have them on their back by now. With Mika...the time feels almost too precious to squander, a gift he never thought he’d be given. “Can’t make him do anything,” he admits. “He doesn’t answer to me. And even if he did, there’s too many sniffers down South. Let’s just make the most of our time, hmm?”

“But if he blocks them, then it doesn’t matter how many there are,” Mika complains, shivering, arching underneath the petting of Arashi’s hands. “Maybe if you pay him? Heeh, it’s like I’m expensive all over again~…” 

Rather than pursue that line of questioning, because like hell if Arashi knows anything about magic and sniffers and whatever, he turns his focus to how nice Mika’s naked ass feels in his hands. “You were expensive, hmm?” he teases, because obviously Mika doesn’t mind talking about it. “How much would it cost me, for one night with you?”

Mika shudders, the reaction far more visceral than he thought it would be—both to the question, and to Arashi’s hands squeezing him. “…More than what you paid for one of those fancy Northern horses,” he answers, toying with the laces of Arashi’s breeches until they start unraveling in his touch. “Nn, and that wouldn’t’ve even been a night, that would just be an hour, maybe two…” 

For a poor child? Then why did your mother need to sell your eye?

_But maybe this is a fantasy of Mika’s, and it’s fun, so Arashi plays along, lifting his hips to help Mika get at his prize. “Well, there’s lots of fun we could have in an hour, hmm? What’s your specialty, darling, what would you do to melt my mind?”_

“I mean, I’m good at everythin’,” Mika hums, and his fingers eagerly drag Arashi’s breeches down, discarding them swiftly. “But, hmm…lemme see if this still works, heh.” 

His thigh drags up between Arashi’s legs, rubbing against his cock as his mouth fastens first to Arashi’s neck, gently biting, sucking, then up to his ear, where his tongue flicks out to run along the edge of it. 

Arashi feels his cock lurch suddenly to life, going from ‘somewhat interested’ to ‘ready for action’ in less than a second, all because of Mika’s tongue caressing, stroking, oddly intimate in his ear, of all places. His mouth falls open, and a high whine comes out, sounding totally unlike him, hips rutting up against Mika’s thigh in a sudden desperate thrust. “S-shit, do that again if you want me to come immediately,” he groans, throwing an arm over his face.

It’s hard not being smug about something like this. Who else could reduce their strong, brave captain to someone squirming and whining? _No one,_ Mika possessively thinks, and his tongue goes to work, licking up the rim of Arashi’s ear, his teeth gently catching against his earring before his tongue wriggles all within the shell of it. His fingers idly slide up, thumbing over Arashi’s nipples before slowly pinching one of them, pulling on it as his thigh presses down, a slow, easy grind compared to the eager licking of his tongue. 

Arashi, at least, can take some comfort in the fact that none of his previous bed-partners would have believed it if they’d seen him act like this. He somewhat prides himself in being playful, teasing, and a dominant force in bed, always the first to act, the first to take care, ensuring everyone has a good time and leaves happy. 

Now, he feels as weak as a kitten, helplessly coming against Mika’s thigh when it feels like they’ve barely started, his body taken apart by this skinny awkward young man and his mismatched eyes, all because of the tip of a clever tongue in his ear.

Mika giggles against Arashi’s ear, another playful, teasing lick to the lobe of Arashi’s ear following as one of his hands slides down, dragging over the mess now between them. “So easy, _kara_ ,” he teases, pulling his hand up to his mouth to suck his fingers clean with a delighted little shiver. “Mmnn, but now you get it, why I was expensive.”

“I thought you wouldn’t like talking about it,” Arashi breathes, eyes glazed with pleasure, shivers going through him down to his toes. “What the...how did you know about that ear thing? What even is that?”

“I don’t mind. Heh, it’s just you, that’s what your body wants,” Mika says, amused, sitting back a bit to watch how Arashi keeps shivering, even now. “I can tell. I dunno how, or why, but that’s where your body tells me to touch. Pretty neat, huh?” 

“You’re saying you’re good at touching me because of magic?” Arashi laughs, grabbing up at Mika’s neck, pulling him down for another kiss. “Nn, you turned me into a pile of goo, this is stupid...I’m usually not the kind of guy that just lays here and lets other people take care of me!”

“Well, that’s stupid,” Mika huffs, laughing as he’s kissed and squirming up to better take advantage of Arashi’s mouth, kissing him again. “I mean, you take care of me all th’ time, you should let me return the favor. Ahh, I mean, I still really want y’t’break me in half, but…”

“Eh? Break you in half?” Arashi blinks. “What...I’d never hurt you, darling. You know that, right? I’d rather die before hurting you...”

Mika grabs his face in both hands, squeezing it gently. “I _mean_ , fuck me until I can’t walk th’ next day,” he says without batting an eye. “I think about it all the time.” 

That’s all it takes for Arashi to move, flipping Mika onto his back, settling between his legs. “Tell me,” he breathes, “down South, do they only have boys that get on their backs? Or can you hire a man to bend you over something, too? Get your legs around me, _amaka_ , I want you to love this.”

Mika’s pulse jumps abruptly, reminded, suddenly, of how hard his own cock is. He writhes with a whimper, squirming to do as he’s told, his long, thin legs trembling as they squeeze around Arashi’s hips. “Y’can hire a man to do anythin’ to you,” he groans, his head rolling back as his nails immediately dig their way into Arashi’s back. “It’s you, of course I’m gonna love it…”

You can’t hire a man to love you like I do.

_Arashi hopes he says as much with his mouth, kissing Mika deeply as he leans down, moving to his neck, pressing lingering, sucking kisses there like an idiot, like someone in love with a plain country boy who doesn’t mind if he leaves marks. “We’re in the North, you can wear a scarf,” he mutters, and grabs at his breeches, pulling off one of his belt pouches and tipping out a small vial of oil. “You want me to do it, darling? Or you want to do it in a way you like it?”_

“Want you to do it.” Mika shivers down to his toes, automatically arching his back, his legs splaying wider to make it easier for Arashi’s hand to reach between them. His neck throbs where Arashi sucked on it, and his fingers absently lift to drag over one of the marks, groaning at the sting of it as he lets his head fall back. “Gonna die if y’aren’t in me soon, I mean it…” 

With every touch, Arashi can’t quite convince himself that this is real, that this is happening, that he isn’t about to be flayed alive. _My skin is too pretty to be anywhere but on my body, thanks,_ he thinks, embarrassed when his hand is unsteady and nearly tips out the whole vial onto his fingers. Mika is so hot and sweet to the touch, moving with him so beautifully when he slides in two fingers, stroking and touching in a way he prays feels good. Usually, he’s confident about his skills in bed. With someone he cares about so much, it’s another story. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathes, pulling back just far enough to watch every gorgeous reaction, every fluttering breath, every tensing sigh on Mika’s face. He needs the time to get hard again anyway, so he strokes slowly, curling and twisting his fingers, letting his other hand drag up over Mika’s nipples.

“Ahhh, f-fuck…” The curse helplessly leaves Mika’s lips, and he swallows hard, his mouth parting as he rocks down against Arashi’s hand. The shudder that runs through him makes even his hands clench into fists, weakly thunking one against Arashi’s back before he drags them up into Arashi’s hair, pulling slowly. It’s _tense_ , and reminding himself exactly how to relax and move after so long without another person touching him… “They f-feel…as good as I thought they would,” Mika sighs, his eyes shut, content to bask in the feeling of Arashi’s fingers stroking inside of him. “I want you t’do this all the time.”

Now isn’t the time to argue about what they can do and when. Arashi isn’t sure he’d be able to anyway, not with Mika clinging to him like that, sweet and urgent and pulling on his hair. “Been a long time, hmm?” he asks softly, pressing a kiss to Mika’s temple. “It’s all right, _amaka_ , I’ll go slow, don’t rush yourself--I love doing this, you sound so good, I know just where to touch you, hmm? Let me take care of you, I’ve got you...” 

It’s probably the most in-control of himself he’s felt since meeting Mika, as if he were always meant to do this.

Mika whines, turning his head to try and get his mouth on Arashi’s—misses, ends up sucking on his neck instead, huffing out a hot, wet breath through his nose. It feels good enough that his eyes glaze over, blurring what’s left of his vision, anyway, and that’s a comfort when he knows it’s Arashi bent over him, warm and solid and gorgeous. “Y-yeah, yeah, you’re doin’ it perfectly,” he moans, his head flopping back off the stone, hair puddling onto the floor behind him. His nails scrape along Arashi’s scalp as he slowly grinds his hips down, nearly wincing at how good it feels, achy and overwhelming after so long. His cock twitches between his legs, hard enough to leak at the tip, but he ignores it. _Not yet._

Arashi reaches down to cup himself, finds that he’s nearly ready to go again, and his eyes light up with relief. “That’s good, you’re so good, let me just...ahhh, I love touching you, this is better than anything,” he mutters, licking his lips when Mika kisses his neck. He’s not always fond of that sort of thing, but with Mika, it’s hard to think of anything he wouldn’t do. 

That thought sobers him slightly, and he leans down, resting his forehead against Mika’s, the way he has so many times when they’d not dared to kiss. “I’d do anything you wanted,” he whispers. “It doesn’t have to be this way because of our status or your history or whatever. You can have me, if you want.” The thought gives him a slight tremor of nerves, but it’s not the disgust and fear he feels when thinking about doing that with anyone else.

Mka’s eyes flutter at that, cracking them open to peer up at Arashi. “Mm. I know,” he says with a little grin, and lurches up to steal another kiss from Arashi’s mouth, both of his arms wrapping tightly around Arashi’s neck to pull him down. “But—you feel so _good_ like this, _kara_ ,” he sighs, wriggling down against Arashi’s hand with a pleased little whimper. “Next time—mmn, next time, ‘cause there’s gonna be a next time, okay?”

That’s enough to absolve Arashi, and he nods, giving Mika a firm kiss in return, then finally sliding out his hand, guiding himself to press his cock against that slick, inviting hole instead. “There’s got to,” he says softly. “And if there isn’t, I hope I’ll die this time. Uh...that was supposed to sound romantic, not weird.”

“It’s r-really romantic, trust me,” Mika breathlessly reassures him, pawing eagerly at Arashi’s back. “Ahh…you don’t…you don’t have to be gentle, I mean it, please, I wanna feel it tomorrow and think about you th’ whole tiiiime…” 

If there’s a man alive who could turn that down, it isn’t Captain Arashi of the Sharps. 

He thrusts in, and lets out a low, ragged groan when he’s engulfed by searing heat. It feels different than anyone else he’s been with, he’s sure, enough that he has to gulp for breath, even feeling tears prick his eyes when he’s buried all the way inside. “That’s--am I hurting you, are you-do you like it?” he asks, helplessly aroused, so hard he feels himself throb and ache inside Mika. “Gods, please tell me you like it...”

The noise Mika makes is high and breathy, ragged in his throat when Arashi sinks entirely inside. Words trip over themselves in his mind, so he just nods, frantic, needy, and his thighs tremble as they clamp to Arashi’s waist, clinging to him as much as his hands are, fisted up into the ends of Arashi’s hair. 

Arashi is _thrumming_ , warm and strong and alive, and Mika whimpers, feeling his back arch as if he’s pulled towards that heat alone. He’s slick around Arashi’s cock, squeezing and tense, but it feels _good_ , making his skin prickle and flush with every tiny shift of their hips. If he could have plucked something straight out of his fantasies, it would be this. To be taken on his back on a warming stone in the North, while it’s snowing outside and Arashi is doting on him in every way… “Perfect,” he mumbles, fumbling for more words, failing, and so he just huffs, his head flopping back again, letting the eager cant of his hips say more.

That one word goes straight to Arashi’s heart. To be on Mika, to be touching and making love to him and hear _perfect_ in return...that’s better than anything he could have imagined. The stone is hot against his knees, and he rocks in deep, pressing sucking kisses against Mika’s neck, up to his ear (it had worked on him), down to his chest, touching every inch of him as if he can somehow make a mark on him this way, somehow claim him this way, somehow really make Mika _his_. 

If those words mean what Mika says they do, Arashi finally understands them. He rocks in deep, kisses Mika’s cheek, and whispers, “Welcome home, _amaka_.”

Mika melts. 

He feels himself dissolve with a sob, covering his mouth with one hand to stifle the sound. It doesn’t work, not when the floodgates finally open. It’s too much, all of it—Arashi inside of him, taking him more sweetly than Mika ever imagined someone could, petting him and kissing him and saying things like _that…_

Mika’s chest heaves, and the trembling overstimulation that rakes through him leaves him barely able to even cling to Arashi’s back. His body seems intent on milking out that pleasure, squeezing and grinding down, and at some point, he feels how wet and sticky his own stomach is, only then realizing how lost he really is. “ _Kara_ ,” he whimpers, and it’s the last word Arashi probably understands as he just gives up, mumbling his praises in his mother tongue as he clings to whatever part of Arashi that he can. 

It doesn’t feel as much like Arashi comes as it feels like he _dissolves_ , slumped over onto Mika’s body, panting into his neck, buried deep inside him. It isn’t usually this _fast_ , when he’s buried in a man’s ass, but Mika has always been desperately different, different on every level. “You’re perfect,” he whispers, and is surprised to hear his voice choke up, tears in his eyes. “I love you so much, darling, sweetheart, I’m never letting you go, you hear me? We’ll just...” 

He breathes in, a slow, shuddering breath, burying his face in Mika’s shoulder.

Eventually, Mika comes back down to reality. His face is wet, so is his neck and shoulder, where Arashi’s face is pressed, and his body sings as much as it aches, trembling in the most pleasant way he’s ever felt. “You’re perfect,” he mumbles, slowly curling his arms around Arashi’s back, squeezing tightly. “Don’t…don’t pull out, stay in me, stay with me…” 

“You’ve got me, darling, I’m yours forever,” Arashi promises, even if it’s stupid, even if it’s nothing he can promise. He’s always overpromised, then tried to step up to it later, and this is no different. For Mika, he’d promise the moon. “Do you want the moon?” he asks quietly. “I’ll go up and get it.”

“Nnn…no, you’d have t’go too far away.” Mika buries his face into Arashi’s shoulder. “When you have to leave later,” he murmurs, “jus’ bring me back some candy. Close ‘nough, really.” 

“Your teeth are going to rot out of your head,” Arashi teases. “Then you won’t be able to bite my ear.”

“That’s okay. I’ll jus’ lick it instead.”

“...You know, fair enough.”


	9. Chapter 9

Mika kisses Arashi, and doesn’t think much of it. 

That’s the risk they’re going to run, now that Mao is gone (scarcely for a few hours, but still), now that they’ve touched and kissed and made love. Reflex makes him want to be closer, instinct makes him want to stay latched to Arashi’s arm, and the struggle of remembering that he’s not _supposed to_ makes him frustrated and angry.

But he feels he sharp burst of magic—a distinctive signature that he can’t ignore—and that makes him scared, more than both of those things. 

Stumbling his way back to Shu’s tent in the encampment makes Mika feel all of those nerves he’d been so happy to forget about over the past day, and he huddles down into his robes, down into the scarf tightly wound about his neck, trembling when he slowly pokes his head in. “M…master?” he quietly greets. “I…” Does he start by apologizing? He’s not even _sure._

Mika is the last person Shu wants to see right now.

Rather, he’s the last person Shu wants to see _him_ , curled up next to a puddle of his own vomit, shaking and pale, with a blanket draped over him. His head pounds, every beat of his pulse like thunder that could shake a castle to its foundation, and he gasps, looking for water and not finding it. Every part of him feels ill-- _and it should_ , he reminds himself, which makes a fresh flood of sweat break out all over his body. “Water,” he croaks, eyes shut tight, stomach lurching again until he loses what’s left of his stomach without even being able to stand up. 

At least Mika has seen him after having to kill with his mind before. It just doesn’t make Shu feel any better.

Mika wordlessly bolts into the tent, grabbing for the pitcher of water and pouring a cup of it with shaky hands. “Master…master, come here, y…y’should lie down,” he whispers, gingerly crouching next to him and offering him the cup of water first. “C’mon, I’ll take care of you.” He doesn’t want to ask _what’s wrong, what happened._ The dread, the panic that sinks slowly into his stomach tells him everything.

Shu lets Mika take care of him, pouring the water down his throat. It helps him at least feel less like he’s already died, even if his vision still swims and his stomach churns. “Mika...I need to ask you something. Please.” He so rarely uses the word that he’s been asked before if he knows it, but it’s important now.

“Mm. Anything you want.” Mika slowly, carefully pulls Shu to his feet, balancing most of the larger man’s weight onto him. He wobbles underneath it, but at least it’s only a short few strides to Shu’s bed, though dumping him down onto it is a less than graceful maneuver. 

Shu immediately curls onto his side, protectively around the glass of water, “Don’t make me do that again,” he says, voice shaking. “I’ll do it a thousand times if I have to, but...it’s wrong. And it’s awful.”

Hearing what he already knew confirmed makes that pit in his stomach grow. Mika swallows, nods, and slowly flops onto the floor next to the small bed, folding himself up, chin on his knees. “I…I won’t,” he whispers, blinking hard, his eyes wet. “I’m…I wasn’t thinkin’. I jus’…I c-couldn’t help myself, it’s so hard, Master.” 

“I know.” Shu reaches out a shaking hand, patting Mika’s head. “I know, I know, gods, I know.” His eyes water freely, making his face bleary, how atrocious. “I’ve been fortunate.” Every word feels like gravel in his throat. “I don’t have the temptation you do, being close. But...” 

His stomach lurches again, and he clenches his teeth, squeezes his eyes shut, trying to stop himself from vomiting again. “The one who heard you. A serving girl. The reward--she could have fed her family for a year, don’t underestimate that.”

But I don’t care about her. Saying that out loud won’t help anything, so Mika doesn’t. She doesn’t care about me, she doesn’t care about my happiness, why should I care about hers? 

_He nods anyway, tilting his head forward so that Shu can pat it, huffing out a wet breath. “I messed up,” he whispers instead. “I messed up real bad, Master. T…the man that was here from the Academy, Mao? H…he….he’s workin’ for the king of Demons, and he…he silenced everything around this estate, so the Captain and I, we…”_

“Yes.” Shu rubs the bridge of his nose, tousling Mika’s hair so it’s properly messed up. “If you think that just because my lord had a magic sniffer around I couldn’t hear you, you’ve drastically underestimated me, to your peril.”

“I didn’t know if y’were payin’ attention or not,” Mika admits with a wet little laugh, burying his face down into his knees. “I’m s-sorry, Master, I couldn’t stop. I _swear_ I didn’t mean to make y’have to hurt anyone, I swear, I…” His shoulders shake as he sucks in a sharp, unsteady breath. “I won’t…I won’t do it again.”

“Please.” Shu’s mouth twists unhappily. “Things would have gone spectacularly pear-shaped if I hadn’t, don’t you think? I acted on instinct. It was very clear to me that if you two were caught, you wouldn’t simply allow him to be executed. I’m right, I know I’m right. That means you would have killed more people--many more--and they would have sent the other Nightcloaks after you. I can’t fight them all. Even if my lord came, the two of us can’t take on the other three, not if the High Emperor joined in.”

Mika shivers at the mention of that name, his fingers curling around his own ankles, nails biting into the flesh. “I know,” he murmurs. “I know. I…at that point, I probably would’ve jus’…” _Made sure both Arashi and I died before anyone else had any say in it._

The thought makes him tremble anew, and he pulls the hood of his cloak over his head, burrowing down into it. “I’m not gonna do it again.”

“Stop that, put your hood down so I can pet you,” Shu admonishes, firmly patting Mika’s head. “All I’ll ask you to do is send that woman’s family a pittance. Get it from the Captain if you must. It’s done, there’s no use wringing our hands about it.”

“Don’t wanna.” Mika pulls his hood down marginally, but only enough for Shu to get to the top of his head. “I don’t wanna tell Arashi. He’d…he’d be real upset.” 

“All the more reason to tell him,” Shu says, as gently as he can when he’s so exhausted and ill. “He’s the other half of that kiss, isn’t he? One of you has to be trusted to make good decisions, and right now neither of you can.”

“Nnngh. Don’t wanna.” Mika turns his head, burying his face down into the side of Shu’s bed. “He’ll think ’s his fault someone died. It’s not, it’s mine.” 

“Oh? And who were you kissing?”

“He wouldn’t’ve if I hadn’t pushed it!” Mika snaps. Several of the candles in the tent flutter out abruptly, and he shifts unhappily. “He would’ve…he would’ve stayed away. It’s my fault, so I’m not lettin’ it happen again. That’s how it is.” 

Shu doesn’t flinch away from Mika’s surge of magic, but he does pet his head again, brushing the hair into his eyes. “You’re a very troublesome creature, you know. When I agreed to apprentice you, I never knew you’d cause me such trauma.” His voice sounds far more weary than cross, and not a little heartsick. He closes his eyes, reaching for the water again with trembling fingers. “And ungrateful, you didn’t even thank me for saving your man’s life.”

“I’m sorry.” Mika’s voice is quiet again, huddling up behind the fall of his hair. Without looking, he grabs the cup of water for Shu, pushing it over. “Thank you. For savin’ him. Y…you won’t have to again, I promise.” 

Shu sighs, turning his face away and burying it in the pillow. “I wasn’t even going to tell you. I knew you’d feel awful.”

His fingers curl into fists, and he swallows hard. “It’s not forever. They’re going to fix it.”

Slowly, after a long moment of hesitation, Mika slowly pulls himself up into Shu’s bed, huddling up next to him, burying his face into his back. “D’you believe that?” he whispers. “I really want to, but…I don’t know anythin’ about the prince, and the snake hurts my eyes, and it’s scary.” 

“I have to believe it.” Shu’s voice is almost a whisper, shaken and weak. He exhales deeply, snuggling back into Mika’s embrace. This is familiar. This is safe. This is not enough, but it’ll do for now. “Either way, it’ll change. Because if this prince isn’t any better than the King...I don’t think my lord will stay silent any longer, I really don’t.”

Mika’s eyes squeeze shut, and he curls all four of his limbs around Shu, latching onto him. “Scary,” he mutters. “You’re his queen, he’s gonna take care of you no matter what.” His lower lip wobbles, and he stuffs his face into Shu’s hair again. “I don’t wanna die. I d-don’t want Arashi to die.” 

“I know.” Shu reaches up, patting Mika’s hand. It’s so much easier to be strong for someone else than for himself, always has been, and if he thinks too much about Rei _not being here_ , or how he’s never been able to have him the way Mika has had Arashi, he’ll start feeling like there’s a hole in his chest again. “Just have some self-control. You went without cock for ten years, do it for another few. You said the King hasn’t got long to live, didn’t you?”

“Y-yeah, but…” Mika heaves a long, shaky sigh. “I wish I was there to speed it up,” he mutters, his voice low and unhappy. “Maybe…maybe I should go to th’ capital, that might do it, I dunno…” 

“Stop it.” Shu’s voice is firm. “You want to be in the Capital? With the High Emperor? Mika, I can’t keep protecting you--if I have to do this again, for whatever reason, they’ll say I’m...it’ll be like before.”

When they wouldn’t let me leave the Academy even on assignment. When they tried to take my Nightcloak. When they said I was too dangerous to do anything but sit in a bare room and stare at the wall.

_“I don’t want to. Jus’..jus’, if it might help, I…” Mika swallows hard, and burrows hard against Shu’s back again, clinging to him. “I’m not goin’. I’m not gonna leave you. But I…I gotta think about bein’ able to help, somehow.”_

“Help by supporting the ones who can actually do something about it,” Shu says, hoping he’s making the right decision. “And if you can’t handle being around him without touching him, I’ll go back to the Academy with you and we can study more.”

Mika says nothing for a moment, then heaves a long, shaky sigh. “Can’t do that,” he mumbles wearily. “We’re goin’ South. I…I have to be good and help him. Not like anyone else here speaks a lick of desert tongue.”

“Translators exist. Don’t be a martyr.”

“You ever met a translator from the Sandlands you can trust? Not bein’ a martyr, I just wanna help.” 

“Are all your people so untrustworthy? I’ve never been, but obviously you would know best, which is worrisome.” Shu feels his eyes slide closed. Then he remembers the crackle of the woman’s skin when she’d been immolated, and he isn’t tired anymore, stomach flopping over. He groans, fingers pressing into the mattress. “Just put a blanket over my face when you leave, I’m quite ill.”

Mika hesitates, slowly pushing himself up, gingerly running a hand down Shu’s back. “D’you…is it th’ kinda sick that a healer can fix?” It probably isn’t, but sometimes, Shu feeling like this turns to something that is. “I can make the creepy snake come look at you. Otherwise, I’ll stay.” 

Tears prick Shu’s eyes again, but he blinks them away. “You--don’t be foolish, you’ve finally found someone you want to be around all the time, haven’t you? Go to him, that’s what makes you happy.”

“Master, you’re dumb sometimes.” 

Mika flops on top of him this time, intent on smothering him no matter his sparse body weight and size. “’s not like I don’t love you,” he grumbles. “A _lot._ Just, mm, you’re taken. Nothin’ someone like me can do about that.” 

“I’m not taken as a friend or a mentor, idiot,” Shu says with a huff, not objecting at all to be squashed. “And don’t bring up my lord so often, prying ears are everywhere. He’s made it very clear that he wants to be forgotten by most people.” He huffs again, just to make a point. “Don’t think that just because I love you you’re excused from taking responsibility for your actions, either.”

“You’re the one tryin’ to kick me out in the snow.” Mika burrows down against him, ignoring his huffing. “I’m excused, you’re already lettin’ me cuddle you. I dunno what lord you’re talkin’ about, I was just thinkin’ you like that snake a lot, which is pretty gross.” 

“Nonsense, he’s lovely,” Shu says, welcoming the change of subject when talking about Rei makes his heart clench. “He couldn’t be that beautiful and be awful. That’s the rule of the world, of course.”

“Snakes are pretty. Doesn’t mean they ain’t mean. Not like snogs, they jus’ sad.” 

“As the loveliest creature in the camp, it’s quite ugly when you hold it over the second-loveliest. Be respectful to Izumi, I find him very tolerable.”

Mika grumbles unhappily, shifting to make his hair drape all over Shu’s face as a feathery, fluffy mess. “He’s bad, though. He doesn’t tell Arashi nothin’ and they still did a blood pact and everything.”

“He’s a Northerner,” Shu says, as if that explains everything. “Honestly, he doesn’t _know_ anything. He’s an idiot, but hardly a schemer.”

“Double standard, that’s a double standard. You don’t let me get away with not knowin’ nothin’.” Mika pouts. “I hope he melts in the South. He looks like an icicle, anyway.” 

“I’m not responsible for his brain,” Shu says, pretending he isn’t smiling as he wraps himself around the pillow. “I’m responsible for yours. So you aren’t allowed to feign stupidity when you’re quite intelligent. You being a fool reflects on me, his will just get himself killed.”

“Nnnggh.” Mika’s head thunks against Shu’s. “Whatever. I don’t like ‘im. Nnn, Master, before we leave, you gotta let me show you the warmin’ stones. Best thing, they’re the _best_ thing. You’ll feel better if you lay on one for awhile, I bet.” 

“What on earth is a warming stone? You’re the one who’s always cold,” Shu murmurs, trying not to scold. “Ugh, I’m going to hate the Sandlands. First of all, they sound hot. Second, I hate sand.”

“They’re th’ only good thing about the North, duh. And yeah, you’re gonna hate the Sandlands,” Mika sympathetically agrees. “Especially ‘cause you’re beautiful. They’re gonna want to touch you a lot.” 

“ _What?_ ” Shu asks, scandalized. “They’re not allowed to touch me, I’m--I’m a wizard, how dare they presume?”

“Yeah, they don’t know nothin’ about that. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna let them, but just know they _want_ to.” Mika sounds amused. “You’re gonna sweat a _lot_ in your fancy robes, Master. Sorry.” 

Shu’s eyes narrow. “What kind of touching are you talking about? What exactly do I have to look forward to in this hellhole?” 

For once, he turns around, facing Mika. “Tell me about the Sandlands. I don’t care about them, but we _are_ going.”

Mika hesitates, then lets his head tip forward, knocking his forehead gently against Shu’s. “It’s hot,” he says, stating the obvious first. “And dry. Full of merchants selling fake stuff. Like—even the meat’s fake. In the populated areas, everyone looks pretty and healthy and there’s at least one brothel on every street, because everyone’s havin’ a good time and partyin’, y’know? Ahh, but…the further you get towards the desert itself…that all dries up. All the people are desperate—hungry, poor, dyin’. Beggars everywhere. Lots of people missing arms, legs, eyes…” He lifts a hand to tap at his cheek, underneath his gold eye. “Because any money is good money, and nobles have weird taste. Beautiful people get touched a lot ‘cause they’re beautiful. Like, hugged, or kissed, little kids cling to your hands…you’ll hate it. Jus’ stay around me all the time, and I can tell them off in desert tongue.” 

“I suppose I don’t hate the way those odd foreign words sound in your mouth,” Shu says, trying not to sound as if he really quite enjoys hearing those odd lilting syllables on Mika’s tongue. “Ugh, I do dislike the idea of looking at the disfigured, however. Did you have any progress with discovering a spell to reattach or regrow those, by the way? Not that I’ll have the time, but if I do....”

Mika makes a face, shaking his head. “Tryin’ to do somethin’ like that…’s definitely outside of the stuff I know, y’know?” he wryly says, snuggling up against Shu’s chest. “And I don’t think it’s good to keep lookin’ right before we’re about to go down there. If you tried to fix someone and it worked, they’d never stop botherin’ you.” 

“But you said many of the people without limbs had them sold by their parents, or someone else,” Shu says with a frown. “Surely if there’s a way, it’s our duty.”

“When it’s a good third of th’ people down there…” Mika frowns, shrugging. “I dunno. I’d rather do somethin’ to fix it before it happens. If you tried to fix my eye now, I think I’d just be mad.”

“Well, it’s your charm point. You look good like that, I’d be horrified if you changed.” Shu brushes the hair out of Mika’s eye, the motion fond. “But I daresay it would be different if you were missing a leg.”

“I dunno. I’m not gonna speak for them, obviously, but—for a lot of people, it’s probably their livelihood.” Mika sticks his tongue out before he shakes his hair back into place. “That kinda stuff turns some people on, y’know.” 

Shu stares at him for a very long moment. Then he starts to speak, as if he knows what he’s talking about, and _then_ realizes what Mika was talking about. “Ah, y--oh. You’re speaking of prostitutes.”

“Yeah, Master. The South’s kinda all about that, just in case y’forgot.” 

“I don’t understand,” Shu objects. “Who’s paying for all these prostitutes? It doesn’t at all sound like a self-sustaining economy.”

“Soldiers. The king keeps routin’ armies down there ‘cause the crown owns most of ‘em. Why d’you think we’re going there?”

“I...well, I presumed that the king thought the Captain’s soldiers would be effective against the enemy in that quarter,” Shu mutters. “But I’m no tactician, I’m a scholar. Why would the King send his largest mobile army to a patch of sand just because there are armless prostitutes there?”

“I dunno, to make his money back?” Mika wearily replies. “Sorry, this is the kinda stuff that all the whores talk about all the time, I can remember it even now. King pays the soldiers, sends the soldiers south, gets all their wages back when they drop it on fancy whores. _Kara_ ’s got a big army, ain’t no surprise to me.” 

“That...it doesn’t _seem_ to make sense,” Shu muses, thinking it over, “but if they’re otherwise going to be in the North or the East, enriching the folk who own those estates, spending their coin on food and lodging and whores, and if you can’t disband the army because it’s useful, but you don’t currently need it...yes, that makes sense. It’s disgustingly vulgar, though. Oh, stop calling him that while we’re down south. People know what it means there.”

Mika grumbles unhappily. “Yeah, I know. But I’m gonna call him that while we’re still here, ‘cause I can. The king’s gross, ain’t none of this a surprise to me. I just don’t wanna go, even if it’s warm there.”

Shu makes a face. “I dislike all of this,” he says frankly. “I will make myself quite clear that no one who attends to me has any business visiting such places. I’ll rely on you to identify the worst offenders.”

“Might wanna warn the whore snake about that before then.” 

“Who? Oh. Don’t call him that, he’s my favorite.”

“Bleck.” Mika makes a face, then gives one of Shu’s sleeves a little tug. “Hey. Can you teach me to make somethin’ that a lady would give her husband that’s gone off to battle? I don’t know nothin’ about that, but…he calls me _amaka_ now, so I should.” 

“I have no idea what that means, but it obviously makes you blush, so I can guess.” Shu purses his lips, thinking. “What sort of lady? Highborn, low, from where? In the East they give handkerchiefs with the names of their future children embroidered on them, but in the Capital it’s a lock of one’s own hair bound inside a locket, tied with a silk ribbon. I do believe that in the West it’s a dried bit of herb sewn into a stocking. And the fishwives of the islands knit a sweater out of thin wool in such fine stitches that they can hardly be seen, so tough that even in a shipwreck the sailor will be identified by his gurnsey. What kind of maiden would you care to be?”

Mika’s eyes glaze. “Master, you’re gonna have to help me out here. I just want it to be cute.” 

Shu throws up his hands. “How do Southern ladies do it? He’d probably find that cute. But he’s from the West, isn’t he? So knit him a pair of stockings with your initials knitted into them.”

At that idea, Mika brightens. “Okay! That would be cute, yeah, you’re right. Master’s always got the best ideas.” 

“Right. So, you’re going to have to learn to knit.”

“…Yeah, I dunno how t’do that. Teach me.” 

For the first time in many minutes, Shu sits up, and drags his trunk closer, pulling out several tiny needles and thin yarn. “Do try to follow along. I’ll only do this once,” he lies.

Mika hums happily, sitting up next to him, cross-legged and content. “Okay, Master. I’m watching.” 


	10. Chapter 10

In a very famous bar, in a very famous city, at the very southernmost tip of the realm, a scribe drinks an ale. 

Keito’s eyes flick around the little table he sits at, paying less attention to his drink and more to his two mysterious drinking companions. One of them, he has a passing acquaintance with. The man’s hair is bound up in a black scarf, common for these parts, but his eyebrows are a bright orange, something that stands out down here. His eyes, a startling green, would be more at home in the snowy wastes of the North than they are down in the baking sands of the South. The man is mysterious, but very cheerful, and an incredible hand with a longbow judging from their first few meetings. Despite himself, Keito likes the man, who insists on going by ‘Moon.’ 

The other man is new. Keito and Moon had found him in rather dire straits earlier, and he’d seemed both clever and interesting, at least enough for Keito to offer to buy him a drink at one of the few whoreless establishments in Khadij. Three ales in, the man, who’d given his name as Koray, has the thick black brows of a native Sandsman, and his poorly-bound hair looks to be long and curly-dark as well. He could be local, Keito supposes, but his accent says different. “So, stranger,” Keito offers, sitting back in his booth in a way that he’d never do at home, never do without his face half-covered by his own scarf. “You’re a pretty unlucky guy, passing out by the side of the road. Any rogues could have found you.”

“Rogues did,” Moon pipes up. He clutches his own tankard of ale, though he drinks from it sparingly, and Keito thinks he feels Moon kicking at the seat under the table. “You were about to be sold for parts. Lucky we were already chasing them, hmm? So does your good luck and bad luck cancel out? Wahaha!”

Koray, for his part, is delighted that the ale is strong tonight, and that his company is interesting. 

“Considering the end result, I think it’s nothing but good luck,” he hums, starting on his fourth. Keito is a cute one—his mannerisms speak of repressed maybe-noble, but definitely in service of noble—and the younger one, ‘Moon’, is a charming splash of freshness in the desert, all bright eyes and glowing personality. “Getting knocked over the head has never been more fun. This old man really should’ve known better, trying to take care of men like that on his own…”

“You don’t look a day over twenty,” Keito says flatly. He likes Koray already, but that’s no reason to put up with nonsense. And speaking of nonsense--

“Unless he’s from a place where time doesn’t mean anything, like the bottom of the ocean, or so high up on the Sharps that the air sinks,” Moon says enthusiastically. “Yes, yes, that would do it! Hmm, but if you’re old, you should stick with us. We’ll make sure you don’t get hurt again.”

“That’s the one,” Koray cheerfully agrees, not bothering to specify which one he likes more. “Ahh, I’ve acquired protectors, thank goodness. My last pair—I wonder where they went off to. They seemed to have a conflict of interest with me in trying to stop those terrible men, so…I went after them, and lost my protectors along the way.” He leans over, patting Keito’s shoulder. “See, this is how you know I’m truly old. I need to be attended to.” 

“For an old man, you seem to have a lot of strength left in your limbs,” Keito says, unable to stop himself from smiling a little. “So. Moon told you a little about what we do--”

“Slay the villains and rescue the innocent!”

“--more or less. Are you interested in joining? We could use a third, even if you can’t do much. Someone to watch our backs would really help, and we don’t know many people in Khadij.”

“You,” Koray says, pointing a long finger towards Moon, “are very cute. And so are you,” he says, leaning to the side with the excuse of having had Some ale to bump his shoulder against Keito’s this time. Ahh, I’m afraid I’m not terribly useful…but I do know a number of people in Khadij! And, you see, because I am so useless, _most_ of the time, great caravans of villains don’t assume I’m up to no good,” he wistfully says. “I suppose today was unlucky in that respect. How long are you both in town?” 

“A year,” Moon says with a big smile. “Well, I’ve been here a month, so I guess a year minus a month. I’ve got plenty to do during the daytimes--”

“We don’t talk about what we do in the day,” Keito reminds him. “It’s safer that way. We’re fighting some very dangerous people.”

“Right, right! Anyway, I’m free at sundown each day. And Specs over there only seems to have something to do in the morning, so we run around a lot at night.” Moon beams, eyes crinkling into little arches. “How about you, Koray? If you’re around at night sometimes, we’d love to have someone else. Can you shoot a bow if I teach you, or will your old bones just snap in two?”

That schedule alone tells Koray quite a bit. He takes a long sip from his ale, all under the guise of thinking. Nobles, both of them, that was always obvious. The younger one, though…those green eyes unnerve him when he watches him for too long, how unfortunate. He really is charming, and so Koray dismisses his reservations for now. The freckles help. No one else with those eyes has ever once bothered with the sun. “I’m as brittle as anything, I’m afraid,” he laughs off, flapping a hand. “But I _am_ always around at night. The moon speaks to me. Mm, do you mainly focus on slavers, or is anyone fair game?” 

“We--”

“You have another target in mind?” Keito cuts in, thin eyebrows raised. “We tend to focus on slavers due to...well. Certain circumstances, but also because they’re so abundant down here.”

“Certain circumstances? You know,” Koray mildly says, “if you want someone to join in and help you, you’ve _got_ to be a bit more forthright. How do I know you aren’t slavers attempting to whisk me away right now? Ah, I hope this ale isn’t poisoned.”

Moon reaches over, eagerly taking a huge swig of of Koray’s ale and setting it down. “Not poisoned,” he announces definitively. “We’re two men with good ideas that met in odd circumstances, that’s for sure!”

“Moon was following a pretty whore around a corner when she was hit over the head,” Keito says dryly. 

“I wanted to talk to her, she dropped the flower she was selling!”

“I told you, that’s a common trick in the South when whores want people to follow them into alleys.”

“I was new! What could I do but chase after her and save her?”

“Hmmm. If you’re new, then you absolutely need an experienced guide,” Koray says, mourning the loss of his ale, but only somewhat. “Especially with the slavers around here. They’re very aggressive. That little group you two ran into that dumped me…I do believe they were just a fraction of the main fold. Ah, but I haven’t had much time to do a _great_ deal of looking into it,” he dismisses, leaning back in his chair to better stretch out his legs. “That was my mistake, what a waste.” 

“That wasn’t the first group we took care of,” Keito says, frowning a bit at the dismissive tone in Koray’s voice. “We’ve brought down five groups so far. It might not be sweeping comprehensive reform, but fewer slavers is all to the good.”

“You’ve brought them down? How can you tell?” Koray smiles at him, his head tilting. “Do you kill all of them?” 

Moon opens his mouth, but Keito holds up a hand. “Don’t answer that. We don’t want to incriminate ourselves. This man could still be a spy.”

“I’m too old for that,” Koray complains, waving a hand. “But if you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. Do you know a lot of spies dumped on the side of the road like a sack of potatoes?” 

“Surely, the aim of a good spy is to ingratiate himself while looking natural, in a situation in which a spy would theoretically never find himself.”

“It’s an easy fix,” Moon puts in. “Just have him come out with us tomorrow and fire the first shot. If he’s working for the slavers--”

“The slavers aren’t all one group,” Keito snaps. “Any of them would love to put an arrow through their competitors.”

“Twig arms, boy, remember?” Koray gently reminds Moon. “I won’t be firing any shots. This would be the most _interesting_ spying excursion I’ve ever heard of—being accused of being a spy while b _failing_ to be a spy amongst a group of slavers…ahh…I’m heartbroken, I’d love to help you, but if you can’t trust me, then I suppose I can’t reveal the locations I _do_ know of for typical trade-offs and pickups.” 

The bar’s heavily curtained doors swing open, and another pair of patrons enter—though these, unlike various others that have come and gone since their arrival, bring a bit of pause from the security. There’s a quiet, but no less vehement argument before they’re both allowed inside, and Koray watches one of them out of the corner of his eye. 

Sir Arashi of the Sharps is unmistakable to his eye, even with his strength subdued. 

“If I get mistaken for a whore _one more time_ , I’m going to scream,” his companion hisses, low-voiced and frustrated. “Maybe I’ll cut my hair after all. How long are we going to be in this terrible place again?”

“Until the King in his wisdom says that we’re moving to somewhere that makes more sense,” Arashi says, waving a resigned hand. “More importantly, have you seen my socks? Look, they have little cats in them!!” If he’s going to have something so cute, and it’s going to be _socks_ , and he’s going to have to wear thick wool stockings _in the desert_ , Izumi is going to goddamn appreciate them no matter how many times he shows them off.

“Yeah, yeah, nice socks. The cat face is really cute.” The words are basically a prayer at this point—a prayer to hope Arashi doesn’t box his ears for not sounding enthusiastic enough. “Didn’t know you were engaged to a cat, though. Buy me a drink.” 

“It’s not like he can put his initials,” Arashi grumbles, waving a finger to a delightfully uninterested serving girl. She has all her limbs, thankfully, as well as a certain wary menace that reminds him of Izumi--or more specifically, of someone who isn’t a whore being offered money to bend over something a dozen times a day. “Cider for me, ale for him, darling. Now, Izumi, why do you think they only think _you’re_ a whore, but not me?” Not that it’s been bothering him or anything.

“He gave one of the cats mismatched eyes, though. I guess—I mean, that’s definitely cute.” It is, even he can’t deny it. Izumi purses his lips, chin in hand. “I dunno. You just look like the kind of guy that would _buy_ a whore.”

“What the hell do you mean by that?” Arashi demands. “I’m lovely! And Mika said there are plenty of whores that you can pay to bend you over something too.”

“Yes, but…have you seen a single brothel like that?” Izumi mildly points out. His ale is set in front of him, and he gratefully drags it close. “You’re handsome, but you look like…well, someone that would have a whore on his arm. That’s why walking around with you is a pain in the ass.” 

Arashi’s face darkens, and he gives Izumi’s shoulder a shove. The mercurial changes in his mood have been the stuff of fear among his men in the last few weeks, usually marked by Arashi chewing on a piece of hard leather or something to distract himself from the wizard’s tent. “What the hell about me looks like I’d be buying a whore, huh?”

“You’re tall and handsome and clearly have money, but you look like you spend all your time swinging a sword. Don’t make that face at _me_ , you asked,” Izumi snippily retorts. He leans back, taking a sip of his drink. “No one’s been grabbing _you_ constantly and asking how much you cost, so at least you’ve got that. Everyone assuming you’re here to buy seems like a compliment.” 

“But everyone assuming you’re for sale is a compliment, they think you’re gorgeous and they want your time, right?” Arashi kicks at one of the legs of the table, grumpy. “Thank the gods for this place, if I hear one more person asking me if I’ve ever felt stumps on my prick I’m going to lose my mind. _Why_ do they think being legless is such a commodity?”

“It would be more of a compliment if they didn’t touch me constantly and get pissed when I tell them ‘no’,” Izumi mutters. “I really don’t get the legless thing. Or the armless thing, or…whatever else. I’ve never been so nervous in a city that someone’s going to try and jump me and chop my leg off. I mean, I’d kill them. But still.” 

Arashi’s shoulders tense suddenly, though he tries not to let it show. “It still wouldn’t be a good time,” he says mildly, then moves his foot, nudging it against Izumi’s ankle. Carefully, he mouths, _Someone’s watching us._

Izumi’s expression shifts to something exceptionally weary. So much for letting himself get drunk enough to the point that Arashi has to carry him back to their camp. “Do they deliberately give places like this shitty ale? Where was that bar that gave out free shots of that stuff that makes you hallucinate if you were beautiful enough?” _Behind me, behind you, where, how many?_ “I’m beautiful enough. I might even share with you, heh.” 

Arashi trails his hand down Izumi’s arm, down to his hand with a little flirtatious laugh. He traces a circle on Izumi’s palm, then taps the spot that would be at 5 o’clock, three times. “How rude, are you saying I’m not beautiful enough to get my own mind-melter? Ah, but the Captain should really be setting a better example, hmm?”

“It’s not that you aren’t beautiful, Captain,” Izumi drawls, lifting his mug of ale to fake taking a sip. “It’s that the only men they were handing those drinks out to looked like women, and, well…” He doesn’t trust himself to drink anything else now, how annoying. His eyes slowly slide in the direction that Arashi has given him, and—

He nearly drops his mug.

“Shit,” Izumi mutters, shoving his drink away before he spills it on himself. His heart thuds too-fast, his mouth suddenly dry, and he snatches his hand away to brush his hair out of his face, trying to neatly fix his fly-aways as casually as possible. He’s not still sunburnt, is he? Fuck, he better not be. “You could be nice to me and take me there instead. Right now.” 

“Of course, darling,” Arashi says, trying to sound cheerful and breezy. He pulls out a couple of silver nobles and drops them on the table, then takes Izumi by the hand, nearly yanking him out of the tavern so fast it probably makes Izumi’s head spin. “What was it?” he asks lowly, when the heavy curtain flutters shut. “Who? I thought I recognized the one with glasses, but the others had their back to me.”

Izumi stumbles as if he’s drunk, his face hot, and he covers his mouth with one shaky hand. “I…I don’t know who the tall one was, or the one with glasses, but…” He spares a furtive glances back over his shoulder, clearly seconds from leaping back into that bar. “I’d know those eyes anywhere,” he says dazedly. “That was the prince, ah, I can tell by his laugh, too…” 

Arashi stares at him, hand finally loosening from the hilt of the sword fastened to his side. “And you ran away from him...why?” he finally demands. “Isn’t he your lover?”

“He clearly was undercover if he was hiding his hair like that, what if me going to him got him killed?” Izumi incredulously replies. “He wrote me and told me he’d be in the South for a time, but—I expected he’d be with a proper entourage, not in a bar like this, dressed like that. I don’t think _either_ of those other men had swords on them. Ahh, this makes me nervous,” he bemoans, wiping a hand down his face. “Why is he out and about like this, what is he _doing…”_

Arashi pets Izumi’s shoulder, looking back over his shoulder, mind racing. “What’s he doing indeed?” he muses. “The one with the glasses--he works for the Academy, unless I’m mistaken. I’ve seen him in passing, whenever I went to do my courier duties.”

“I don’t like this. You can go back, I can’t, I have to keep an eye on him.”

“Have you thought about the fact that he probably doesn’t want anyone to keep an eye on him?” Arashi asks mildly. “Clearly he’s doing something he doesn’t want his entourage for, you know. Or, he’s out having fun for what must be the first time in his life. Maybe he knows what he’s doing?”

Izumi sucks in a ragged breath, and grabs Arashi’s hands, squeezing firmly. “Leo,” he bluntly begins, “has absolutely no idea what he’s doing at any given point. Please understand that your prince has absolutely no head for battle or protecting himself. And screw you, I have helped him have a _lot_ of fun in his lifetime.” 

Arashi blinks slowly. “This is the guy we’re relying on to save us all you’re talking about, right?”

“There _is_ value in people that aren’t soldiers, you know. Ugh, I don’t have time for this,” Izumi mutters, releasing Arashi’s hands. “I’m going to at least make sure he gets in safely tonight, I can’t stand the idea of him running around in a city like this alone.” 

“But he’s not alone,” Arashi reminds Izumi. “What if you’re biting off more than you can chew? That guy works for the Academy. And I don’t mean he’s a wizard, I mean he’s a Holy Administrator, unless I’ve absolutely messed up his face. You...you’re really sure the prince has the welfare of wizards at heart? Because the Holy Administration is under the High Emperor, and they’re the ones who _make_ those rules.”

“Of course he does,” Izumi hisses, though now he has the urge to go in and snatch Leo away and _explain to him_ exactly why keeping that sort of company is no good at all. “Maybe…maybe he doesn’t know. He probably doesn’t. He doesn’t…pay attention to things like that all that much,” he admits wearily. “All the more reason for me to stick around. Him being around someone like that is worse than being alone. Ah, I wish I knew who the other man was. I _hate_ things like this.” 

None of this sounds exactly promising to Arashi, and his eyes narrow. He moves, grabbing Izumi by the arm, and pushes him up against the wall, faces very close together now. “Have you ever even brought it up to him?” he demands. “I’ve risked my life and the lives of a lot of people I like and trust on your word that this shit is a priority for that guy in there, and now that he’s talking to the enemy, you say he doesn’t know what he’s doing?”

Izumi’s mouth tightens, and he shoves back against Arashi, but it’s like punching a brick wall, as per usual. Putting even a sliver of difference between the two of them is impossible. “I’ve talked about it, in our letters—but how can I explain the full situation when I haven’t seen him in months? Do you think they _teach_ princes about the injustices of the Academy?” he lowly snaps. “He’s a good man. When he hears the kinds of injustices that wizards go through, he _will_ side with them. I don’t know why he’s talking to someone from the Academy right now, but I’m sure there’s a reason for it—or it’s completely random, but it’s not because he’s on their _side.”_ His eyes glitter, sharp and cold. “Don’t fucking doubt him again, or I’ll kill you myself.” 

Arashi’s eyes are no less dark, no less hard, as the side of him that usually only the Inglings see comes out. “Don’t. Fuck. With. Me.” 

His hand is tight on the hilt of his sword, and he steps back, tensed in a battle stance. “If you want to duel, draw your sword. You know I’m right. And you’ve been hiding so much from us it’s an act of charity I haven’t slit your throat before now.”

Izumi’s heart thumps hard within his chest. His thoughts immediately swivel to what he’s said around Shu—no, what he’s said to Shu when _Mika_ is there, curled up on a pile of pillows on the floor, never watching him, never acting even remotely interested, but obviously listening to every word. It’s unsurprising that every lick of it would come around to Arashi, but annoying is the stab of hurt that Arashi chooses _now_ to confront him about it, when for some reason he wants to doubt Leo for…well, _being Leo_ , by the sound of it. 

“…If you’ve had something to say to me, you should’ve said it before now,” Izumi stiffly replies, but his fingers are on the hilt of his sword nevertheless. He doesn’t feel secure around Arashi when he’s like this if he’s not holding onto it. “What, exactly, do you think I’ve been hiding?” 

Arashi’s eyes dart around. There isn’t anyone visibly watching, but he takes a step forward nonetheless, pitching his voice low. “You let me think a blood pact would work on you. I’m not right to feel fucking betrayed about that?”

Izumi blinks back at him, startled, and his expression is one of honest confusion. “I…what?” That’s _not_ what he thought Arashi would say. “Wait, it doesn’t? Since when?” 

Arashi might be a lot of things, but he doesn’t _think_ he’s a terrible judge of people--and Izumi has never been a fantastic liar. His hand loosens on his sword, and he breathes a sigh of relief. “Good. Gods. I thought if I confronted you any other way you’d deny it. So it wasn’t a ploy? You didn’t know? I didn’t want to believe it.”

“What? No, it wasn’t a _ploy_ , I still don’t even know what you’re talking about!” Izumi insists, holding his hands up in front of himself when Arashi releases his sword. “Ritsu told me that I couldn’t ever spill a word and that I’d die if I tried to. Do you really think I’d try to test that? I’m too young and beautiful to die. Are you seriously saying it won’t affect me? _Why?_ If this is a test, I’m going to kick both you and Ritsu in the balls later.” 

Arashi glares at him. “Mika told me that you’re not human. He can smell it on you. He says it won’t bind you--or Ritsu, either. And just _try_ to kick me in the balls, remember what happened last time we sparred hand-to-hand?”

Izumi feels himself freeze up, and it has nothing to do with the memory of the last time Arashi knocked him flat in five seconds. That’s more along the lines of what he’d expected to come out of Arashi’s mouth, but… “I don’t want to talk about this here.” He doesn’t want to talk about this at _all._

Arashi nods shortly, and actually moves his hand off the hilt of his sword. “Fine. Chase your prince. But I want some answers when you come back to camp--about him _and_ about you. That’s an order from your captain.”

Izumi says nothing. _You’re going to hate me_ , he thinks, far more miserable about that than he ever thought he could be. Maybe if he doesn’t tell Arashi all of it… 

But Mika will, and that’s worse. 

“Fine,” he quietly says. “Whatever you want to know.” 

Arashi nods slowly. “All right. I’m going back to camp to try and...I don’t know. Keep the fights to a minimum. You’re due in my tent by dawn.”

“Fine.” 

It’s no proper ‘yes, sir’, and Izumi knows it. He sucks in a slow breath before pushing himself off the wall. “See you then.” 

It’s not like Leo can stay in there much longer, right?

Except he does, and Izumi feels himself starting to doze off at his self-imposed post, lurking around the side alley of the damned bar. At least next to this bar, the likelihood of being propositioned is much lower, even if it means waiting for another few hours for his prince to stop conversing with questionable company. 

The tall, black-haired man leaves first. He’s obviously a little drunk, stumbling and laughing, and—the one Arashi had pointed out from the Academy isn’t far behind. Black-hair grabs him by the arm, slings an arm around his shoulder, and Izumi watches with irritation, counting down the seconds. 

Until there’s Leo, and his heart stops beating for a moment. 

Letters are all well and good. Izumi hates them, because he’s never been that comfortable with putting down honest emotions onto paper. It’s easier to dance around things in person, even though Leo in person…makes him stupid. 

Izumi slips out of the alleyway once he checks the direction that Leo is walking. If that Holy Administrator knows who Leo is, then he’s at fault times twenty for letting Leo leave alone. But maybe he doesn’t know, and Leo doesn’t know who he is, and gods, but that would take some of the stress of explanation away later. Izumi refuses to think of that right now, though, not when he can follow after Leo silently, taking a parallel alley to catch up to him before cutting down another, and slipping up behind him with only a couple of paces to spare. He reaches out, catches the stub of Leo’s ponytail that now escapes from his headscarf, and pulls.

“Hey, princess, your hair is showing.” 

It’s Izumi.

_Leo has no idea why his mind knows it so firmly, why he doesn’t have the slightest doubt that the mysterious hand in the alleyway, the tug from behind, the low voice affirming his secret identity, is his Izumi. But everything in him, from his muscles to his nerves to every fiber of his brain, knows it so well he turns, jumping into Izumi’s embrace, arms wrapped around his neck so tightly they creak. “Wahahaha! It’s you, of course it’s you, you’re here, I love you! Ahh--I love you, I love you!”_

_Relief_ floods so violently through his veins that Izumi’s knees nearly buckle. Leo’s jump turns into Izumi simply grabbing him and scooping him up off of his feet entirely, squeezing him tightly enough that he feels his own joints pop. “Keep your voice down, you’re going to wake the whole city,” he lowly scolds, but his expression is nothing but fond as he rips Leo’s scarf off to bury his face down into his hair, breathing in deep. The simple, familiar scent of him makes him wobble, and Izumi’s eyes suddenly sting when he blinks. “You’re going to be the death of me, Milord,” he mumbles. “What are you _doing_ in a place like this?” 

Leo’s arms are strong, always stronger than expected, and he can’t even respond before he gets his mouth on Izumi’s, wrapping his legs around his waist just to be closer, hot and urgent and needy, stealing kiss after kiss before he can breathe again. “What am I doing? Dying without you, obviously,” he says, a little cross. “I’m the death of you? You’re the one who got himself sent away from me after swearing to be by my side!”

“I—“ Izumi flushes, sparing a glance around before he simply grabs Leo by the hips and shoves him hard against the wall, helpless to do anything but when Leo grabs and climbs and _kisses_ him like that. “It was for a good cause,” he shoots back, just as crossly (not very). He feels himself practically vibrating, and he surrenders to the urge to have his mouth on Leo’s again with a strangled sound, lurching forward to kiss that soft mouth again. “Mmn, and it’s not like…I’m gone forever. Stop distracting me, answer the question.” 

“Totally forgot the question,” Leo says contentedly, twining his fingers in Izumi’s gorgeous hair for the first time in months. “Keep kissing me, eat all my questions.”

Izumi opens his mouth to protest that, but he gives up the second Leo’s hands are in his hair, because he’s weak and probably going to die at dawn, anyway. “Get me drunk, you made me miss out on good ale,” he breathes, and kisses Leo like he’s wanted to for months. 

Kissing other men is fine and all, but Leo…gods, Leo is _Leo_ , warm and bright and like an oasis in this terrible, shitty place that he has to sink his hands into immediately. Izumi groans against his mouth, kissing him hard, sucking on his tongue until he’s short of breath and knows Leo must be, too. _Oh well,_ he dazedly thinks, and kisses him again. 

“I’m drunk on Izumi,” Leo breathes, eyes dancing, sheer happiness and gratitude radiating off of him, relieved energy coursing through his veins so much that it makes him lightheaded, steals his breath, until all he can do is smile between each kiss. “Get drunk on me, my love, I’ve missed my bastard page and I don’t care about anything else.”

That _horrific_ nickname from the right mouth, after so many weeks—Izumi groans against his mouth, shoving Leo harder against the wall. “You’re the worst creature alive,” he rasps, his hands dragging lower to grip handfuls of Leo’s ass, pulling him against him as he kisses his mouth, then his neck, then up to his ear where his teeth catch the lobe of it, and—“A tip, Milord,” Izumi lowly teases, tugging on the earring he finds there with his teeth. “If you’re going to try and run about like a low-born, don’t wear such fine earrings.” 

Leo squeaks, wriggling between Izumi and the wall, shivering with every rasp of Izumi’s teeth against his skin. “Hnn...it’s....ahhh, it’s smart, you see? I look like a pretty prostitute like this, wearing fine earrings to lure men into my clutches!”

“What’s _smart_ about that?” Izumi growls, nipping again before he tips his head back, a scowl twisting his mouth. “I don’t want to hear that you’re trying to lure men in to… _what_ , even?” A stab of possessive jealousy makes his grip tighten. “If anyone has put their hands on you, I’ll kill them.” 

Leo blinks slowly. “I can’t fit in as a citizen,” he explains, still amused. “Wrong eyes, wrong skin, wrong everything. And there weren’t any soldiers from far away here--until now, I guess? So it was my only choice. No one touches me, Sena.” He winks, then nuzzles into Izumi’s neck. “I’ve got hidden knives.”

Izumi huffs at that. He’s still not happy about it, but he lets it drop, albeit reluctantly, because more importantly—“Why are you running around like this in the first place?” he demands, catching Leo’s face in one hand and giving his head a gentle shake. “I’m not kissing you again until you tell me.” 

Leo pouts. “But kissing is better than talking,” he wheedles. “And Izumi is good at it. And I want it.” He strains up, trying to get more kisses anyway.

Izumi drops him back onto his feet and takes a full step back, arms folded over his chest. “Nope. Not until you talk. Heh, did you shrink, Milord?” he teases, finding himself looking down at Leo a bit more than he remembers. Nice. 

“You grew and you know it,” Leo grumbles, setting his hands on his hips to glare more up at Izumi than he remembers. “Fine. I was out because I’m a dangerous secret criminal looking for victims. Wahaha!”

“I’m serious, Leo.” He doesn’t want to be, not right now, but this is _stressful._ Izumi sighs, glancing aside. “One of the men you were with. He works for the Academy—did you know that?”

Leo beams. “Of course!”

The anxiety starts up again, full force. “And you’re…spending time around him, why? Milord, I know this is not what you want to spend time talking about right now, but it’s important that you tell me.” 

Leo’s face falls, and he growls a little, annoyed. “This takes a lot of explanation, you know. You want to do that in the alleyway where we could be overheard?”

Izumi shuts his eyes, frustrated. “So you’ll kiss me in an alleyway but not give me at least a brief explanation of what you’re doing so I can stop thinking you’re throwing yourself at death’s door?” he scolds, reaching over to pull on Leo’s ponytail. “Abridge it, then. I don’t have time to follow you to a more private location, I’m already on thin ice with my captain.” 

“Izumi’s always in trouble,” Leo says with a sigh. “Maybe you should stop mouthing off.” He folds his arms. “The Academy isn’t my enemy, you know. They work for me.”

“It’s not because of what I said for once, Milord.” Izumi sighs, glancing skyward as if that will give him strength. “I know I haven’t been able to explain as much as I’d like to in my letters, but—you remember what I was saying to you about wizards, right? Men like that, Holy Administrators, they’re called, those are the ones making those terrible rules.” 

Leo, of course, is right, and this isn’t the time or place for long-winded explanations. Izumi grimaces, reaching back to untie then retie his hair, now thoroughly mussed from Leo’s grasping hands. “I just want to know what you’re doing with a man like that, that’s all.” 

“You should be asking what _he_ is doing with _me_ ,” Leo says with a grin. “The answer is, he doesn’t know who I am. And officially, I don’t know who he is. We don’t use names.” 

He brushes the hair out of his eyes, and tries to give Izumi a real answer for once. “We share a...nighttime hobby. It’s not official.”

Izumi relaxes…somewhat. It’s good to know that the Academy asshole doesn’t know who Leo is, but—“All right. The other man that was with you, who was he?” 

“No idea! That’s the fun of it!”

“You’re going to give me a heart attack. This is the sort of thing I was hoping you _weren’t_ up to in my absence, you know.” 

“You were hoping I wasn’t breaking up slaver gangs? That’s a weird thing to hope for.”

“You’re—what? Yes! Yes, I was hoping you weren’t doing things like that!” Izumi snaps, lurching forward to grab Leo by the shoulders and firmly shake him. “Why are you doing that?! No, I know why you’re doing it, because you’re a good person and a brave one, if not a stupid one, but I would like for you to live long enough to _be king_ , you know!” 

“I’m getting shaken,” Leo complains, and doesn’t do anything to stop it. “Come on, if I want to be a good king, I have to know about the plight of our least fortunate citizens. That’s what the Grand Tour used to be about, but when I got here...” He huffs, blowing hair out of his face. “All they wanted to talk about is how great it is that they’ve stamped out the indigenous population and how many incentives we could expect if I kept sending armies down to patrol the sands. I’ve got no problem with men and women that want to sell their bodies, but so many of the ones being sold are captured off the street, did you know that? Even ones that are already prostitutes--they’ll capture them, and put them in chains, kept underground, just so they don’t have to pay them anything. And they don’t have anyone to speak up for them.”

He goes quiet for a moment, face twisted in bitterness. “They brought a girl to my room the first night I was here. Showing off the goods. They talked about her like she was livestock, right in front of her. They say it’s so profitable to kidnap that they’re going to start exporting to the Islands--because the Southern bitches breed so fast, they said.”

“I’ve heard about all of this, yes.” Because Mika has clearly told Arashi, and Arashi has to tell someone, because it weighs on him until he starts being furious at himself for not being there to stop it when it happened to Mika, no matter how illogical it is. Izumi exhales a slow breath and stops shaking Leo, even though he doesn’t remove his hands. “…I just wanted to know that you knew what you were getting into, and that you weren’t being careless. I know why you want to act, of course I do, but…heh. It pisses me off. If I could help you, I’d much rather be doing that.”

Leo shrugs, feeling a little silly. “I’m going to fix it once I’m King,” he says, as if it’s obvious. “And I know that’s what everyone thinks I should be doing--waiting so I can become King and help them all that way. But what the hell am I supposed to do about everyone I could have saved before that? Saving them as King, that’s a king’s duty--but what I’m doing now, isn’t that a human’s duty?”

“…Arashi can suck my dick so hard,” Izumi mutters underneath his breath before he grabs Leo and crushes him to his chest. “Gods, I have missed you,” he exhales into Leo’s hair. “It’s…it’s been long enough and I’ve been bragging about you so much that I almost forgot that you were _honestly,_ really like this. Thank god.” 

Leo promptly bites Izumi’s chest gently, snaking his arms around Izumi’s waist. “Unfortunately, I’ll have to make you skip out on your post,” he says. “You’re mine. Can’t let you go now that you’re in my arms.”

“Issue some kind of royal command and I’ll leave in a heartbeat,” Izumi says, nuzzling into Leo’s neck with a sigh. “Whatever entourage you have down here is absolutely terrible if they don’t know where you are right this second.”

“They put me to bed at sundown, then go get drunk in the brothels until dawn,” Leo says sourly. “Apparently, plucking this job was the choice plum. They say this year makes it worth having to take me to the North next year, where they’ll freeze their balls off and have to rough up girls to get a kiss.”

“Ridiculous. Just let me take you North next year, they can all screw off. I’m fun.” Izumi squeezes Leo again, hard enough to briefly lift him off of his feet. “I’m going to smuggle you back to my tent and keep you like a woman.” 

“Until dawn,” Leo agrees. “Koray says there’s a sandstorm coming in, so we’re not going hunting tonight. So...what are you waiting for, bastard page?”

Izumi hesitates, then picks Leo’s scarf back up again, properly wrapping his hair in it and tucking it into place around his face as well. “I hope everyone is jealous of the pretty whore I picked up tonight,” he teases, grabbing Leo by the hand to pull him along. “You have to promise me not to try and seek me out on the regular, all right? Otherwise I’ll be far too distracted.” 

“Ah...mmm...I’m not promising that at _all_ ,” Leo laughs, falling into step a bit behind Izumi, head lowered like a good Sandland prostitute. “Now that I know where to go, I’ll probably come every time we’re done with our activities.”

“Dooon’t, you’ll make this so difficult,” Izumi bemoans, struggling to alter his footsteps to stay ahead of Leo. Old habits are hard to break. “So you know that other man’s name and not anything else, huh. That annoys me.”

“I don’t know everyone in the world, you know. I only met him tonight, he was being enslaved and we put a stop to it. Then we bought him ale with his own money, haha!”

“When you meet someone like that, you should question them more thoroughly,” Izumi chides, squeezing Leo’s hand. “You’re too friendly, you brat.” 

“Be nice, I’m going to have to be diplomatic my whole life,” Leo complains, not much like a proper whore. “I’m taking my unexpected free youth and running wild. I’ve shot a lot of people!”

“Don’t say that so loudly,” Izumi grouses. “I’ll be nice when I’m entirely certain you’re in safe company. Go on, keep complaining, I’ll throw you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes.” 

“Do it. Make me potatoes, I dearly wish to be many potatoes.”

“Of course that’s what you want.”

Izumi hauls him over, and with only a little grunt of effort, hoists Leo up, dumping him neatly over his shoulder to carry him off more like a prize of war than any potato sack he’s seen. “You’ve gotten fat, Milord,” he hums, patting Leo’s ass as he sets off. “Time for some proper exercise to get you back into shape.” 

“Rude! You’ve just gotten strong, that’s all! Also I don’t have you sucking me dry every day, that’s probably it!”

“Ahh, so that’s it. Your loyal page will have to remedy that, won’t he?” 

It’s a good ten minute walk to the other side of the city—the lengths they’ve gone to find somewhere free of prostitutes, ugh—and another five to reach the encampment. It’s quiet, at this time before dawn, and Izumi is grateful to not be hassled as he makes his way into his tent. 

Then, he dumps Leo directly onto his roll of a bed, which is fortunately far more cushioned than most, courtesy of his own neurosis. “You have to keep your voice down,” he warns, dropping down and yanking Leo’s scarf away again. “Or else.” 

Leo cocks his head, and reaches unabashedly for the laces of Izumi’s breeches, nimble fingers making quick work of them. “Or they’ll just think you’ve found yourself a breathy whore, won’t they?” he asks with a laugh, letting his hair spill fiery orange out of his scarf, shaking out his earrings. “Or is it that you’ve got a lover here who’ll be cross with you?”

“Or half the camp will show up to _cheer me on._ Soldiers are obnoxious, you know?” Izumi’s tongue soon stumbles over his next quip, however, because Leo, in his bed, looking every _bit_ the part of a prince undercover…so help him, he’s weak, who _said_ Leo was allowed to still be so perfect? 

Izumi’s own hands busy themselves with spreading Leo’s thighs to better crawl between them, his mouth immediately finding Leo’s neck again to kiss and suck his way along it. “I’ll make it hard on you, though,” he breathes, grabbing one of the hands on his laces and guiding it against the already aching line of his cock. “You’re so lovely I can’t help myself.” 

Leo starts to say something cheeky, but how can he, when Izumi is looking at him like _this_ , when his cock is so hot and hard and _here_ the way it hasn’t been for eight goddamned months?

His hand wraps around as if it’s his favorite thing come back to him after a lifetime apart, and he breathes deeply, pupils dilating. He gives it one long stroke, then brings his hand up to his mouth, giving it a long lick as he shivers. “Now it’s bad to be so greedy,” he huffs, squirming under Izumi’s touch. “I want it inside me _and_ in my mouth.”

Izumi curses underneath his breath, his eyes fluttering helplessly when that surge of arousal nearly does him in already. Too soon, too soon, he _has_ to make this last. “You can have both,” he murmurs, crawling forward to straddle Leo’s chest, balancing on his knees to keep his weight off of him as he reaches back, hauling over a pillow to ease it behind Leo’s head. Izumi’s fingers curl around his own cock, his other hand thumbing apart Leo’s lips. “Open up, love, and you can have a taste.” 

Leo doesn’t even think. One whiff of the musky, familiar taste of his lover and he’s gone, opening his mouth to let Izumi rub over his lips, then his tongue. He lets out a helpless moan, leaning up to suck more of the head in, swirling his tongue around it, lapping urgently at the tip as his eyes flutter, staring up at Izumi. Hopefully, his breathless, wordless pleas for _more_ are making themselves clear.

Izumi’s breath raggedly catches in his chest, and he gives into the pure _need_ to let his cock slide in deeper, dragging along Leo’s tongue, already dripping freely. He’s always been easy, but this feels like a crime—Leo’s mouth is so hot and slick and _perfect_ that he hears himself whimper, and one hand falls to the blankets next to Leo’s head, bracing himself when his hips arch forward. 

“I was gonna just…let you get me ready like this, but you might get more than that,” Izumi admits, breathing hard as he watches the hungry way that Leo swallows him down. “You look…so fucking good like this, Leo, what the hell.”

It’s probably odd that his own name goes directly to his cock, but Leo whimpers, hands splayed on Izumi’s thighs, leaning up to suck hard on the head of that thick cock leaking over his tongue. It’s been so long since anyone has called him anything besides _your highness_ or _milord_ , and the intimate address makes him ache with the easy, fond familiarity of it. He laps and sucks, looking up through wet lashes when his eyes water, hands kneading into Izumi’s thighs, until he chokes. _More_ , he pleads with his eyes. _My love, I need all of you._..

Fuck it, he gets hard again fast.

Izumi gives into the urge to drag his other hand through Leo’s hair, twisting his fingers up through it as his hips roll forward, pressing in deep, taking his time to let his cock sink down Leo’s throat. “Can you take all of it?” he breathes, his eyes bright, cheeks flushed as he watches. His cock throbs against Leo’s tongue, dripping steadily now. “You’re being so good—I can’t help it. But, mm, you want a taste after so long, don’t you?” 

Leo nods as much as he can when his mouth is so full, when he’s held in place by Izumi’s cock stuffed deep inside of him, gagging and fighting it down, squirming helplessly, uselessly under him, feeling his mouth water at the taste of the fluid leaking over his tongue. He moans around the thick flesh in his mouth, hearing the sloppy, obscene noises, making no effort to stop them when Izumi feels so good in his mouth, feels so good that it makes tears flow from his eyes. He tries to beg, _please_ , but the word comes out so garbled and messy that it’s barely a real word, just a nonsense, horny noise.

Izumi is done, and he doesn’t care.

This is the stuff of his fantasies, the thoughts that have kept him going for months and months, and Leo’s hot mouth around him, sucking him down, desperate and hungry and making the lewdest noises that one would _never_ expect from a prince—that makes him dissolve, arched over Leo’s face, gripping his hair as he grinds in, using his mouth and throat like he can’t _ever_ get enough. 

Izumi bites his lip when he comes, strangling down the breathy, gasping groan that tries to pull from his throat. Every twitch of his cock wrings another shudder from him, and his eyes cross. “Sorry…sorry, gods, you’re so perfect,” he pants out, chest heaving as he slowly pulls out, petting Leo’s hair. “You swallowed all of it, didn’t you? Good boy.” 

Leo’s eyes are glazed, and he licks his lips, reaching needily for Izumi to pull him close. “You taste...as good as I remember,” he breathes, shivering despite the heat. “I could have a full glass and I’d still want more.”

Izumi groans, slowly rolling to the side and stretching out to better follow Leo’s pull. “Don’t say that, I’ll die,” he breathes, catching Leo’s mouth and kissing him deeply, shuddering at the taste of himself on Leo’s tongue. He shifts, pawing down for Leo’s own laces, unraveling them with an easy pull and then curling his fingers around his cock. “Let me play with you a little, and I’ll be hard enough to fuck you through the ground. Mmn, reach behind you, love, my oil’s buried in the sheets, heh.”

Leo paws around behind himself, noting how low the oil is with a raised eyebrow, nothing more. “Did you forget to put it back when you were done playing with yourself?” he breathes, light and teasing as he rocks up into Izumi’s hand. “Or did she?”

“I’m _dying_ without you, I hope you know,” Izumi sighs, divesting Leo of his clothing in short order and snatching away the oil. “Dying and suffering. I might as well have some solace when I’m missing your pretty mouth and soft bed.” 

With a last kiss to Leo’s mouth, Izumi neatly rolls him, pressing him down onto his stomach and settling behind him on his knees. Oil drips over his fingers, down the cleft of Leo’s ass, and Izumi wastes no time wriggling a pair of them inside, sucking in a sharp breath at how Leo’s body already seems to drag him in. “I’m not the only one dying without, apparently.” 

“No solace for me,” Leo breathes, arching back against Izumi’s hand, his body shuddering as if it’s been given water in the desert, as if it’s finally reclaimed the part of itself it’s been missing. “There’s--no one for me but you, it’s just--hnnn!! Ahhh, hnn, mm, that’s--I’m--”

He hadn’t planned it, but one lucky, accurate brush of those familiar fingers is all it takes, and he spills on the ground, reaching behind to grab Izumi’s wrist as his body quakes with the force of his first orgasm in months. “Ahh...don’t stop, just--play with me, you promised, please--”

Izumi gulps, even as he obliges, lurching forward to bend over Leo from behind, nuzzling aside his hair, mouthing kisses to the back of his neck as his fingers curl in deep, stroking and spreading inside. “We’ll see how long I can,” he whispers, finding that perfect little spot to press and rub against, milking out Leo’s orgasm as long as he can. “You look so good like this, Leo.” 

He leans back enough to drag his other hand down the arch of Leo’s spine, absently tracing his fingertips between a few of the new freckles that decorate his skin. “It drives me insane that I’m not there to take care of you,” he exhales. “It’s not fair.” 

“Take care of me n-now,” Leo pleads, toes flexing, sweat dripping down his nose to splatter on Izumi’s bedroll, cock leaking almost continually, making him squirm over and over. “Your--your mouth, your hand, your--hnn, be n-nice, don’t--if you’re going to m-milk me at least wait until after you’re i-in me, p-p-please--”

“ _You_ asked to be played with,” Izumi teases, but his voice is breathless, and he’s already on the edge of his damned self-control, anyway. He steadies Leo with a hand against his back as he pulls his fingers free, and drips more of the oil over his cock. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you—here you go…” 

He doesn’t wait any longer—he _can’t_ , not when he’s already achingly hard again. The head of his cock presses against that tight hole only for a second before he pushes inside, sinking in deep, everything easy and slick and made for _him._

Their skin sticks together when he thrusts in those last couple of centimeters, and Izumi shudders, sagging down, brushing Leo’s hair aside with shaky fingers to kiss the side of his neck as his hips roll languidly, savoring how it feels to be inside after _so_ long. “Still perfect,” he breathes. “Gods, it’s good, isn’t it? I’m in _so_ deep, Leo…” 

“S’where you belong,” Leo slurs, eyes rolled back in his head, hands clenching weakly in the sheets as he shoves back, voice a throaty purr. Being fingered is fine, but being fucked like this makes him shudder and drop down to the bedroll, pushing back just enough to let Izumi know he’s here, he’s hungry, he’s moving with him. “Izumi...my love...just--ahhh, you own me, make me yours, I’m yours, I--”

He bites into his wrist, a grumpy, shivery noise, and feels his belly aching and cramping already, over-full enough to make him pant. “S’where...you belong,” he whispers again.

“You make the cutest noises,” Izumi groans, sinking down onto his elbows over Leoas he slowly rocks his hips forward, taking his time to feel every bit of skin sliding against skin, every single time Leo clenches and squirms down onto his cock. His chest sticks to Leo’s back as he presses close, his breath hot against Leo’s ear, sweaty hair tumbling free messily over their shoulders. “It fits inside you… _so_ well.” He shifts, sliding a hand down underneath Leo, his fingers dragging down his slick, messy stomach before he presses in, his breath hiccuping. “Is it…is it too much? Feels like it, good.”

“H-how can it be too much if it’s...where you’re--hnn-- _meant_ to be?” Leo groans, biting his pillow, shoving back against Izumi, trying to get more of his mouth, his beautiful chest, his arms pressed around him. That cock is thick and hard inside him, making him wriggle under Izumi’s weight, desperately beseeching. “Don’t--I’m not your maiden, I’m your lover, I’m--” His breath catches on a sob. “I’m _yours_ \--”

“Yeah—y-yeah, you’re mine.” Izumi’s arm slides fully around Leo, hauling him back, pulling him into the next, far rougher thrust of his hips. It rips a low, rasping groan from his throat, and his teeth catch against the curve of Leo’s ear before he sucks on it and shoves in hard again, grinding in long and deep with every single thrust. He can feel the way Leo’s body _pulls_ at him, and it just makes him harder, his cock twitching, leaking with every thrust. “You’re not a maiden, b-but—“ He laughs, planting a long, sucking kiss to the side of his neck. “At this rate, you’re gonna have an heir in you.” 

Leo feels his cock lurch at that, and he can’t stop himself from crying out, twisting to grab Izumi in a searing kiss, biting his lip, sucking on his tongue as he bucks and shudders. “You’re--yes,” he moans, vision blurring. “Put an heir in me, Izumi...I w-want to be your bride, just...”

He grabs at Izumi’s hand, lacing their fingers together, pushing his hips back even if it feels too full, too much, as if Izumi really is going to fill him to bursting. “Please, love, breed me--”

Izumi tastes blood, and it just makes him kiss Leo harder. 

Leo moves against him, and he moves back, his knees slipping on his blankets when he braces himself, but he doesn’t care. It’s still enough purchase to shove in deep when Leo arches his back and pushes against him, hunger and desperation in every single movement. Leo shudders, clenches around him, and Izumi barely stifles his own voice against Leo’s mouth, clinging to Leo as he ruts forward, pulling him back against him instead of just shoving him down, fucking him hard. 

When he comes this time, it’s a far longer, lingering thing, leaving him to lurch forward, trembling, shuddering with every pulse of his cock. Izumi grinds in with every single throb, feeling it grow slicker inside, easier still to sink in deep and stay there, and sweat drips down from his hairline, splattering onto Leo’s back. “Feel that?” he breathes. “Leo, you’re…you’re all mine again.”

Leo hears high, breathy little cries, and is fairly certain that they’re his own. He feels himself trembling, squeezing down on Izumi no matter that it’s so much too much, so much too full, a thick pulse inside of him that makes him almost luxuriate in the feeling. “Don’t pull out,” he murmurs, letting his head fall forward. “Ever. You live here now.”

“Shhh, shh…” Izumi slowly sinks down, hissing out a slow breath as Leo squeezes down around him. “Ahh…be sweet, love, it’s sensitive,” he huffs, petting a hand through Leo’s hair as he shifts, making sure to settle in a way that lets his cock stay fully sheathed inside. “Tell me when you can’t stand it anymore.”

“The only thing I can’t stand,” Leo whispers, snuggling back against Izumi, eyes closing in gratitude for the way he feels, “is the thought of being separate from you again. You’d better have gotten me properly this time, bastard page.” There’s a wobble in his voice, and he sniffs a little.

“I’ve been _trying_ ,” Izumi grumbles, slowly rolling to the side to spoon behind Leo so he doesn’t have to keep laying in his own wet spot, both arms wrapping around him to keep him close. Even in this heat, being skin to skin with Leo, sweating on each other and staying _very_ sticky, is the best thing he’s felt in awhile. “Let’s just elope.” 

“Yeah.” Nothing sounds better. “Ruka will be a good Queen, I could be the wastrel lover of a bastard page--or I’ll dress as a girl, we’ll get married in the North, I’ll be your Lady.”

“If I told my mother I knocked you up and was marrying you, nothing would make her more thrilled.” It sounds wistful, but Izumi honestly considers the logistics of such a thing for a moment. “I’ll just eventually have to pry a bastard away from some girl…ah, not like it’s hard. I’ll find a pretty green-eyed girl to sleep with, it’s a good enough match.” 

“Nonsense,” Leo murmurs, turning to mouth over Izumi’s neck. “We’ll grab a little green-eyed sad child from an orphanage, no need to part more legs than you need to.”

“You don’t want a baby that’s actually mine?” Izumi grouses, squeezing Leo gently as he tips his head down to press a kiss to Leo’s mouth. “I’d like to carry on my mother’s name at least sort of properly.” 

Leo squeals, squirming away until Izumi’s soft cock slips out of his stinging hole, making him wince. “You squeezed me too much. Hnn. I’m the scion of an ancient line, first of my name and nineteenth firstborn son, and you’re a country bastard, but you’re worried about preserving _your_ line?” He grins, and presses a kiss to Izumi’s cheek. “That’s my page.”

“You summed it up nicely, thanks,” Izumi hums, lurching forward to kiss Leo again, grabbing up his face in his hands to gently smush his cheeks as he does. “Hurry up and be king already. I really want to be called your knight.” 

“You’ll be my bastard knight,” Leo says, cheerfully letting himself be squished, looping his arms around Izumi’s waist. Then, softly, he admits, “I’m scared of being king. If I make the wrong choices...right now, if I do, it’s just my problem. But what if I do something bad? What if I make a stupid decision and people die because of it?”

“I’ll be there to help.” Izumi absently trails his fingertips down Leo’s neck, wordlessly healing the various little hickeys he left behind. “Then if something stupid happens, it’s both of our faults, and we’ll deal with it together. You mean well and want to fix things, that’s almost the entire battle, I swear.” 

Leo nuzzles into Izumi’s hand, seeking warmth, reassurance. “I just...my father did, too. I know, he’s awful, but when he was young, he wanted to do right by the people. I’ve been talking to a lot of people lately, and...the idea that my choices could turn out like his...it’s terrifying.”

“He didn’t have someone like me to keep his head on straight, then.” Izumi’s expression is wry, but fond, and he gently rubs his thumb over Leo’s cheek. “I won’t let you end up like your father, love. I’ll kill you myself first. You have a better heart than he ever did, anyway, I’m sure of that.” 

Leo closes his eyes, nodding slowly. “I’m trusting you to keep me in check. I...I don’t know if I’d take the throne if I didn’t have you. I’d probably just disappear.”

“Consider it a joint effort, then.” Izumi plants a kiss to both of Leo’s closed eyelids before stretching against him with a long, content sigh. “I’ll build you the best Kingsguard you’ve ever seen, and you’ll rule this realm wisely and justly. You’re already at it whether I want you to be or not.”

Leo’s smile is a little bit sly. “I couldn’t just let it go. I...ahhh. I wish I could really marry you. You’ll deserve the crown, too. Just...”

He sits up, grabbing Izumi’s hand and pulling it to his heart, eyes intent. “Be my good heart. Be my heart that isn’t afraid of politics, or war, or making the wrong choices. Be my heart that sees what I’m doing and doesn’t look away.”

Izumi blinks up at him, his cheeks flushing. That sounds more like a marriage proposal than any of the teasing and talk they’ve ever tossed around before, and it makes his own chest ache as his fingers curl against Leo’s. “…I will,” he quietly says. “I’ll be your heart. I won’t look away. I can’t look away now, that’s not going to change.” 

“Don’t ever look away.” Leo takes a deep breath, and nods firmly. “And I won’t fail you. I swear that to you, my most important person. I will _not_ fail you. You believe me, don’t you?”

“Mm. I believe you with my whole being, my whole heart, which is all yours.” Izumi’s lips twitch, and he gently prods Leo’s chest with his finger. “Enough of that serious face, it doesn’t suit you. Am I going to have to send you away on that note, or with a kiss?” 

“Don’t send me away at all,” Leo suggests, but he turns to look out the tent flap, groaning when he sees the first hint of gray. “Damn, I have to go fast. Kiss me, I’ll see you soon.”

“See me when it makes _sense_ ,” Izumi mutters, lurching up to kiss Leo firmly, then pulls away, fishing out his breeches from the blankets to thrust them into Leo’s grasp. “But if you need me, you know where to find me now.” 

“I’ll always find you.” And with that, and his breeches hastily donned, Leo is gone into the predawn light.

And with that, Izumi resigns himself to his own, potentially sobering fate.

He dresses slowly, grimacing at the lingering, too-pleasant aches of his muscles, and rakes a hand back through his hair, not bothering to tie it up as he slinks out of his tent several minutes after Leo leaves, leaving his sword behind and pulling the flap closed behind himself. Some other soldiers are already starting to rouse at this hour, and Izumi swiftly avoids them, beelining to Arashi’s tent no matter how he dreads it. 

“Morning.” It’s a bland greeting, and Izumi sticks his head in afterwards, suppressing a yawn as much as he suppresses his nerves. “Reporting in, Captain.” 

Arashi, bleary-eyed and rubbing his face, looks up from his bedroll. He’s naked, though the lantern burned low and the assorted troop movement papers scattered around the tent make it seem likely he hasn’t exactly slept. “This is unofficial. You don’t have to stand at attention. Come sit.”

_Good, because I’m probably not going to_ is the quip Izumi passes on, and he walks in, pulling the flap shut behind him securely before simply dropping down on a patch of the bed that doesn’t have paperwork on it. “So.” 

“I don’t like doubting my men,” Arashi says frankly. He holds up a hand to forestall any protest. “And you haven’t really given me a reason to doubt you. I jumped to conclusions. I’m grumpy and that was wrong. Just...swear to me and I’ll believe you. I’m a simple soldier, you know?”

Izumi sighs, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling of the tent. “What am I swearing, exactly?” he asks after a moment. “I’m not trying to be a smartass. I’ve already given you my loyalty, but at the end of the day, I’m not _your_ man.”

“All I want,” Arashi says wearily, “is for you to swear that the blood pact you swore will bind you as if you were human. I’ll believe you.”

“I was operating on that assumption before, you ass.” Izumi buries his face into one hand. “I swear. All right? I swear it still binds me _just as I thought it had before._ Shouldn’t you be annoyed at Ritsu more than me? He’s given us both false information. One—he told me the blood pact would, you know, work. Two—he didn’t tell you that I wasn’t…wasn’t human. But he knew, apparently, with just a sniff. I didn’t even know, for certain.” 

Arashi scowls. “Yeah, I’m going to need to have a talk with him. I don’t like that the only people bound are me and Tsukasa, since that kid would be bound by a stray curse he said under his breath.”

“And apparently you would be by a dick up anyone’s ass,” Izumi dryly retorts, and he flops onto his back, sprawling across the foot of Arashi’s bed. His heart still thuds uncomfortably in his chest. “Whatever. Good to know you think so little of me, I guess.” 

Arashi raises an eyebrow. “You saying you didn’t know you weren’t human?”

“No.” Izumi shrugs, not looking at him. He doesn’t want this conversation. He wants no part of it, but he already swore he’d answer Arashi’s questions. “Until I joined up with you, I…my mother thought I was some kind of wizard, and always just told me to keep my mouth shut. Shu was the first one to suggest I might not be human. Ritsu confirmed it. I didn’t know.” 

Arashi huffs out a breath. “That explains more than it doesn’t, I suppose,” he admits. “It’s not like I wanted you to be a traitor. But seeing the prince getting all chummy with someone from the Academy, right after I found out you were lying to me...Mika says you look funny to his eyes, and that meant you’re a half-blood, that’s all. It isn’t as if I was researching you.”

“Leo knows the guy’s from the Academy, but the guy doesn’t know who he is. Apparently, they’re teaming up to take down slavers. I don’t know all the details, I didn’t get into it, that was good enough for me.” _And it should be more than enough for you, too,_ Izumi darkly thinks, still far more sour about Arashi doubting Leo than doubting him. “You were pissed enough to threaten to slit my throat or duel me. I never _lied_ to you, I just didn’t tell you I’m half-snake or whatever, I don’t even know what it is.” 

Arashi holds up his hands in surrender. “Fine. I accept. If you’re still angry, I’ll duel you for the prince’s honor, or I’ll make him an extra low bow or something. Just understand--I’m risking my life for him, and I’ve _never_ had a word from his mouth that he’s on my side, only yours.”

“You can get on the ground and kiss his feet the next time you see him while I watch.” He’s only sort of being sarcastic. Grumpily, Izumi rolls onto his side, glowering directly at Arashi. “Don’t make me want to duel you for his honor. I’d win.” 

“Cute. Before you get mad, I mean that.” Arashu sighs, wistful, and stretches out on his bedroll. “You’re my best officer, Izumi. And I like watching you be in love, it’s soothing. And I like fucking you into the floor _and_ getting drunk with you. But you hide shit from me at your peril, so don’t think I’m going to let you get away with stuff because of your pretty face. This is still my command, and there are still lines you can’t cross. A word from me and you go back to being banished and stripped of your mother’s inheritance. I don’t want to, but I can’t afford to have dissension in the ranks.”

“Stab me, then.” 

Arashi stares. “Why?”

“Because I hide shit from you at my own peril, apparently.” Izumi stretches out his hand, letting it flop to the bed. “Seriously. Take a knife, stab it through my hand, right now.” 

Arashi sighs, but reaches for his boot knife, entirely expecting him to pull away. “All right, but if this is some kind of stupid study about how fast you are when I’m not expecting--”

He does _not_ expect Izumi to stay perfectly still, or for the knife to go entirely through his hand. His eyes go wide, and he yanks the blade out, cursing a blue streak and grabbing a shirt to use as a bandage. “Fuck, shit, I’m _sorry_ , I thought you were going to move, you _idiot_ \--”

Izumi doesn’t even as much as flinch, but he does reach up with his other hand, grabbing Arashi by the shoulder to hold him still. “Look,” he says quietly, holding up his bleeding hand, which already has decided bleeding is overrated, the wound closing up at a rapid pace right before Arashi’s eyes. “So you can fucking _see_ that I’m not hiding it from you now.” 

Arashi goes very still. Then he breathes out through his nose, and sets the shirt aside. “No wonder you were willing to fight a berserker. I thought you had a death wish.”

“I kinda do. It turns me on.” Izumi sighs, shaking out his hand, the lingering sting making him grumpy. “Seriously…you’re a pain in the ass. I’ve had to suffer so much because of you noticing when I get hurt.” 

“It’s called being a good commander--or it is when my men aren’t hiding their apparent immortality from me.” Arashi sits back, thinking, brow furrowed. “What can you heal? And what else can you do?”

“Anything shy of a mortal wound on myself. That’s a guess, by the way. I’ve never come so close to death that I couldn’t fix it, but I’ve had nasty gut wounds before and been fine. Being bitten by venomous things. Poison, another assumption. I get fevers easily, but they go away fast.” Izumi hesitates visibly. “It extends to healing other people or animals. Sort of.” 

“Really? That’s incredible! Ahh, what I wouldn’t give for.........”

Arashi’s voice trails off as something makes sense. “Dammit. I want my money back for those horses.”

“No way, they’re still good! The fat helps, seriously.” As does the frantic extra weeks of training Izumi put in to try and guarantee the riders of said horses knew how to handle them properly. “It’s not that incredible,” he hastily adds. “I can’t heal others all that naturally. Fixing myself is second nature. Fixing others…it makes me exhausted, or ill. I’ve only ever used it on my horse and…and the prince.” 

“Okay, well, either I want back half my money that I paid for the fancy expensive magic horses,” Arashi says, not without a hint of humor, “or I want you to take responsibility for healing each and every one of them that fights a snog and walks away with venom.”

Izumi’s mouth twists. “Fine, just take my wages until it’s done. I never said they were magic, or resistant, just that they were tough, you know.” He rubs a hand over his face. “I’m _not_ a healer. Don’t assume that’s on the table now.” 

Arashi waves a hand. “No, no, I don’t want that. You’re a good warrior, I’m not wasting you in the Healer’s tent when you could save a hundred more lives by cutting down the enemy quickly.”

“ _And_ without dying. Don’t forget that part. I literally don’t think I can at this point.” Izumi rolls onto his side, staring at him. “Sparring you is a pain in the ass because if I ever wanted to really go for it, it meant I had to take your blade to my chest, and out myself. But I wanted to, so I could get at your throat for once.” 

Arashi brightens, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. “Really? Oh gods, I wanna fight an invincible warrior, that sounds soooo fun!”

“So come at me for real next time. And send me somewhere scary, heh. That’s what I’m good for.” 

“No wonder you want to go against a Berserker. Ahhh, I wish I’d know earlier! I would have let you, and if you die, there’s no real loss, right? Hmm...” He taps his face, thinking as deeply as someone who likes to hit things with swords can. “We don’t want the other men to know, though. See if you can get Shu to throw you up some cover if you’re going to do something dangerous, and make him save his magic instead of using it on you. He’s a precious resource.”

Izumi hesitates. “We, ah. We’ve already discussed that. At length, actually. There’s just never been a chance to use it, in particular.” 

Arashi purses his lips, sour now. “You know...this _seems_ like the kind of thing you should have told me earlier. I don’t mean because I’m your Captain,” he says hurriedly. “I just mean...you thought the blood pact between us was binding, right? So...you thought you could trust me with anything? But you didn’t tell me, even if you thought we were bonded friends. Why?”

“…I thought you’d be pissed at me. And hate me.” Izumi worries at his lower lip, glancing away. “Knowing you couldn’t—wouldn’t tell anyone—that’s not the issue. If you knew what I could do, I thought you’d be way more pissed off at the times I _didn’t_ do anything, and men died. I…like I said, I don’t want to ever be relegated to healing people.” 

Arashi grimaces, not entirely pleased with the answer. “I don’t love this,” he admits. “I hate the idea that I would have been pissed at you, but I can’t exactly deny it, either. I’ve got a responsibility to those men, you know? But...I’m going to trust you to use these powers, because officially, I don’t know about it.”

“If it were you, I’d save you.” Izumi isn’t sure if that’s going to help or hinder Arashi’s opinion of him, but…well, it’s the truth, and he swore he’d be honest about this, so that’s what Arashi gets. “I just…have to be picky about it, or I’m dead, _and_ they’re dead. You know?” 

“I’m trying to know that--like, you have a lot more experience in the ethics of your power than I do, I suppose? Bah, this is too much stuff for a simple soldier girl like me.” Arashi yawns hugely, stretching out his arms. “You need to make up my beauty sleep to me, take my watch tonight.”

“I’ve been up all night,” Izumi protests, but he groans, rolling over to rub his face into Arashi’s sheets. “Fine. But if I’m doing that, then you’re coming into town with me again later. I…you should actually meet the prince properly at some point, and he’s not going to avoid me, now that he knows I’m here.” 

“Mm, I probably should,” Arashi agrees sleepily, throwing an arm over Izumi’s waist. “If I’m going to be the Vice-Captain of his Kingsguard.”

“You make a lot of assumptions for someone so shitty.” Even saying that, relief makes Izumi sag, and he slowly crawls closer, burying his way against Arashi’s bare chest. _Thank the gods you don’t hate me._


	11. Chapter 11

From the first sip of Leo’s drink, Izumi knows they should’ve gone back to camp—or anywhere else, honestly. 

He stole the drink as a joke, teasing Leo and snatching the tankard away before Leo could even bring it to his lips, and with the first sip, his tongue burns in a way that has nothing to do with alcohol. 

_Poison_ , his mind immediately, firmly identifies, and arrogance makes him tip the entire drink back and say nothing about it. “You,” he says to Leo when he sets it down, wiping his mouth, “aren’t allowed a sip of this.”

That’s where it starts, and that’s where it should have ended. 

The poison doesn’t bother him more than giving him the vaguest of headaches. That isn’t the problem. The problem is in spending the rest of the night insisting that he taste-test Leo’s drinks, which fortunately, Leo thinks is cute. He does it once to Arashi’s, just to check, but his own haven’t been poisoned, and Arashi’s haven’t either. 

The end result, by the time they’ve spent the entire evening talking and getting along splendidly, is that he’s three sheets to the wind, Leo is vaguely tipsy, and Arashi is entertained by both of them. Someone is talking to Arashi, eager and interested about his army—even here, people know who he is, isn’t that nice?—but no one pays him and Leo any mind, especially when Leo has his hair bound up and hidden, and Izumi isn’t wearing his uniform. “Let’s go outside,” Izumi insists under his breath, his mouth almost against Leo’s ear, and pulling his prince around to the back of the bar takes absolutely no effort except the effort to not trip over his own feet. 

The door shuts behind them, and immediately, something is wrong. 

Reflex makes him want to sober up immediately. That isn’t how fixing himself up works, though, when he can’t _focus_ —shit, he’s too drunk, and maybe something else, it’s hard to even tell now. What he _can_ focus on is how Leo gets wrenched abruptly from his arms with something blunt hitting the back of his head to knock him out, with another four hands on him, ripping him sideways, throwing him so hard against the stone wall that he reels, hearing the crack of his skull and the way his stomach almost immediately upheaves. 

“He should’ve been dead by now if the poison took,” a man says about Leo, obviously wary. “What do we do?” 

“Make it quick,” comes a far more familiar voice— _Rodan, Leo’s own uncle_. Izumi hasn’t heard that voice since he rejected the man at a banquet set for _him_ , for the acceptance of Rodan’s offer to be his squire, to swear to him and be his man. 

A blade flashes, and Izumi stops contemplating why Rodan is here in short order. “ _No!”_

His scream of protest isn’t met with laughter, but instead with cold indifference as the dagger slits Leo’s throat before he’s tossed to the ground.

Izumi scrambles to react. A pair of hands are on him again, forcing him backward before he lunges forward out of them, collapsing to the ground next to Leo. He doesn’t think, just reacts, his hands grabbing at Leo’s, and even if there’s not a singular bit of focus left in his body to heal himself, there’s enough to just _pump_ the magic his rapist father gave to him directly into Leo’s veins, desperate, shaking, not even knowing if it will work—

“Enough, get him to his feet.”

Izumi kicks and bites, one hand going to his sword, the other still clinging to Leo’s, desperate to do what he can while he still can. Did he do anything at all? Gods, he can’t tell right now, not when he’s dizzy and aching, his head feeling like it’s going to loll off of his shoulders already when his sword is ripped off of his hip and he’s finally forced to let go of Leo. 

And that’s the last thing he really remembers, until he finally wakes again. 

The first thing Izumi sees is a rotting, poorly thatched roof, and under his feet is sand and old, warped boards. Wherever he is, it’s far from clean, and the sandy, fine dust makes his breath short.

Leo. Where’s Leo?

_The panic that sets into him immediately makes him bolt up to his feet—or try to. The world spins and Izumi groans, barely making it to his knees before he pitches forward, the contents of his stomach coming up in a violent upheaval. Apparently, this is amusing, judging by the jeers of laughter that follow. Should’ve learned my lesson last time, he miserably thinks, recalling how poorly his body had reacted to ridding his own horse of venom. But this is different—this is his body, so it has to be more than a simple poison. Maybe? Gods, he doesn’t know._

“You lived through that, too, hmm? The damn witch said you wouldn’t. I’ve never been so glad he was wrong.”

A man, powerfully-built and tall, strides into the light, just outside the bars of Izumi’s cell. He’s in his 40s, graying gracefully around the temples, obviously clean-shaven by his valet this and every morning. His stride is confident, the product of decades of privilege, his clothes simple but of an incredibly fine make, as though a royal tailor had been instructed to make a parody of a dock worker’s clothes, but had only fine linens available. His nose is hooked, his shoulders broad, his lips thin, and one of his ears has a very noticeable notch, like a tomcat whose ears have been docked after neutering. 

He stops pacing in front of Izumi’s cell, looking down on him, thin lips curling in a slow smile. “Do you even remember my name, roue?”

Izumi’s chest heaves as he struggles not to vomit again. As his vision swims, he tries to piece together exactly who this is—good fucking luck with that, when he literally can barely even hold his head up. 

But he sees that notch, and he feels his pulse spike. 

_Ah, this is bad._ His body is playing a constant game of catch up, and that’s not something he anticipated ever having to deal with. It’s one thing when it’s actual injuries, something else entirely when it’s injuries and poison and…drugs? Fuck if he knows, he’s always stayed far away from that kind of thing. “No,” he manages, forcing his voice not to waver. “I don’t waste my time remembering men I’ve defeated.” 

“No wonder you were so easy to take prisoner. Remembering the faces of enemies who’ve sworn vengeance on you is a useful life skill. I’d bid you to learn it, if I planned on letting you walk out of here.”

Slowly, methodically, he removes his gloves, tucking them into his belt pouch. He looks to the two men behind him in the shadows, two of his retainers, and nods at the cell. “Bind him. Hit him in the head if you must, these northern bastards are quite resistant to rough handling.”

The men burst into the cell, looping secure chains around Izumi’s wrists and ankles. One of them, clearly a minor lord in his own right, bears his own notch. This one bashes Izumi’s head into the ground, so hard his teeth rattle.

Izumi tastes blood when his teeth cut into his own tongue. His vision blurs once more, threatening again to send him to his knees, but being hauled upward to his feet gives him no chance of that. Forcing himself to focus, even for a second, he takes note—another man with a notch, fantastic, though he doesn’t particularly remember this one, either. 

“Do you know what it means, when I do that?” he brags in his own memory, flicking blood off of the tip of his sword. “In the North, we’ve got a problem with too many cats. So we clip their balls off, and leave a little nick in their ear, just like that, so we remember that they’re neutered and harmless. That’s what your wife thinks, too, by the way.”

_Izumi shuts his eyes briefly. Now isn’t the time to regret his own past arrogance. “So that’s why. Trying to grow your balls back?” he breathlessly asks, because what’s the point in keeping his mouth shut now? The damage has already been done. “Is Dianna’s pussy still just as good these days?”_

An elbow swiftly finds its home in his stomach, and he coughs and chokes, spitting blood and bile alike.

The gentleman’s cane comes down on the thug’s back, giving him a hard wallop. “Be judicious,” he snaps. “If you wanted to get your own back, you should have bid more at the auction. Wait outside the cell until I command you.”

He turns his attention back to Izumi, smirking. “Magrite,” he offers, flicking open the top few buttons of his suitcoat. “That’s her name.”

_Auction?_ Izumi licks the blood off of his lips, lifting his bound hands to wipe his mouth. “Still not ringing a bell,” he mutters, his eyes lidding. His eyes flicker to the outside of the cell, following the movements of the men that left. He’s not fast enough to bolt after them and make it out, not now, not when he’s in this condition. “What kind of shitty noble pays money to beat the crap out of someone?” 

“To beat you is just the privilege.” The man’s hand drops, unfastening his belt now, tossing it out of the room to his men. Then he grabs Izumi’s hair, yanking it back and shoving him back down over the wooden bench, the room’s only furniture. “The money I paid was to be the first to tell you your neutering failed, little tom. When we’re all finished reminding you, one of us will pay to neuter you, Tommy. Maybe we’ll release you into the wild with a notch out of your ear. Maybe without a tongue, or feet, so you’ll have to crawl. It’s hard to tell what His Lordship will put on the auction table next.”

Izumi’s stomach flips, and any ideas of self-preservation flutter out the window.

“Fuck you and your lord,” he bites out, twisting against the hold, trying to wrench himself away. He twists and kicks, breathing hard, feeling his elbow dig back uselessly between the man’s ribs. Whatever he’s been drugged with, his body does _not_ know how to handle it, or if it does, it’s happening so slowly that it leaves him as weak as a kitten. “I should’ve lopped off more than your ear. Does your wife know you have to pay to get it even now?” 

The man laughs quietly, dragging a hand down Izumi’s spine. “This is why I paid three thousand gold royals to have you first. I wanted you with the most fight in you, before it’s all fucked out of you.”

He grabs Izumi’s trousers and yanks, hard enough to rip them half-off, and his hand delves down, grabbing Izumi firmly by the balls and squeezing in a way obviously not designed to cause pleasure. “You can scream like a little tom if you want. No one will hear anything. Or if they do, it’ll just make them more eager to bid higher next time.”

Izumi hisses through his teeth, refusing to make a sound and give him the satisfaction. His heart pounds, and he wishes it would _stop_ —the faster it pounds, the more his body starts to wake, functioning far more normally by the second. It’s a blessing and a curse; he’d rather be drugged out of his mind for something like this, but at the same time, if he heals up, he’ll be able to escape—maybe. 

Or I’ll be their plaything for longer, because I won’t die. 

_“You overpaid,” he pants out, hating the way his skin feels dreadfully, agonizingly hot now. It’s his body trying desperately to catch up, but it translates to something tingly and gross, making him shiver until his limbs feel useless. “Didn’t your w-wife tell you I don’t quit?”_

“You’re struggling far too much,” the man grunts, and pulls something out of a pocket. A second later, metal and leather click around Izumi’s neck, with something hard and rough in the center. “Had that whipped up by a wizard,” he says, incredibly pleased with himself. “When you shrugged off all that poison. Figured our little tom had to be a filthy fucking half-breed, or worse. That should keep you docile, once your body recognizes the stone.”

Sickly dread sinks into Izumi’s stomach. He thrashes, as if that’ll do anything to dislodge it, but the second it touches his skin, it _burns_ , making him choke in a breath that leaves his limbs tingling and aching all the way down to his toes.

It hurts in a way that Izumi didn’t know things could hurt—from the inside, almost, as if it’s sliding directly through his veins. He whimpers in spite of himself, slumping down with a ragged breath. 

The man’s breathing speeds up. “That’s a nice look for you,” he breathes, hand almost gentle when it pets at Izumi’s neck. No, not gentle: proprietary. “Helpless. Impotent. We’ll get to the humiliation in time, Tommy. If you spread your legs like a good kitty, maybe you won’t even bleed this time.”

“Go fuck yourself.” The touch makes his skin prickle, and Izumi dimly, sardonically thinks it must be some kind of a defense mechanism, if he can find any kind of pleasure out of that touch. “I…ah…” _It hurts, it hurts._ His eyes squeeze shut, his hands curling into fists where they’re bound. His blood feels like it’s sitting stagnant in his veins, uselessly churning, burning, aching. “Hurry up and get it up,” Izumi mumbles, gritting his teeth against his own growing panic. It’s one thing if he can fight his way through this. It’s another thing if he’s helpless, trapped in his own damned mind the entire time. “Or was your wife telling the truth about that after all?” 

Without warning, the man’s cock drives brutally into Izumi’s hole with no preparation, hand on his neck like iron, keeping him pinned to the bench. “Shit, you’re tighter than any of the honorable ladies you trifle with,” he groans, sparing no mercy, no sympathy, just thrusting in over and over with no respite. “Who’s neutered now, Tommy?”

Izumi’s insults die on his tongue, and it’s all he can do to _bite_ it instead, desperate to not make a sound. 

He fails. 

It’s less the fact of being fucked, honestly. That he can deal with—it’s not his first time with a guy that didn’t give a fuck about doing it right. Or at least, he _could_ deal with it, if every single nerve in his body wasn’t already twanging out of tune, aching down to the core and leaving him to whimper and pant, the noises catching up brokenly in his throat. More than that, though, it’s the fact he can’t even kick or struggle, can’t even try to, because every single time he thinks of moving, his arms burn or his legs burn or _everything_ burns from the inside, making it feel like he’s melting in the worst of ways. 

_Maybe I’ll just pass out._ No, that would be too merciful. Izumi bites his lip until it bleeds, the trembling refusal of his body to settle and _quit_ slowly driving him mad. 

“There’s a good tom,” the man breathes, hand curling on Izumi’s neck, hips slapping against Izumi’s ass every time he thrusts in deep. For some reason, his hand tightens, and he smacks Izumi’s head against the rough wood of the bench, laughing low in his throat. “If you scream, I’ll go easier on you. Go on, scream, show me you’re scared.”

Izumi’s teeth grit, and with the last bit of his strength, he twists, lunges, and sinks his teeth into the man’s hand as hard as he can. 

He tastes blood, and bites harder, until his jaw aches and the growl that rumbles low in his throat is anything but human. When he lets go, he spits blood, pupils slitted and glazed, and the aching, stinging shove of the man in him is a dull, throbbing pain compared to the constant buzzing pain everywhere else. “I’ll show you scared,” he groans, his fingers clawing into his own palms. “F…fuck you, t-tell me the name of your house.” 

The man pulls out, grabbing Izumi by the hair and throwing him to the stone floor, driving a foot into his stomach in a rage, kicking him once, twice, three times before he curses, turning away to examine his arm. “Little bitch,” he pants, spitting down on Izumi, then wrapping a hand around himself, stroking quickly, aiming at Izumi’s face. “I’ll see to it that you _remember_ the House of Karn.”

With the breath completely kicked out of him, Izumi can barely hear anything but the thud of his pulse in his ears, but that name sticks with him even as he curls into a ball, coughing and wheezing. _House of Karn._ It echoes in his mind, and Izumi sucks in a shallow, shuddering breath. 

The hot, wet splatter on his face makes him recoil with a hiss, but Izumi doesn’t waste his energy with twisting away. He just flinches, breathing in shallowly, and only cracks his eyes open after he doesn’t feel another drop hit his skin. “No wonder you can’t knock her up,” he rasps, his head lolling back as he tries to suck in a full breath. “Too used to your own hand?” 

Lord Karn’s face changes, from sick pleasure to something devoid of reason, twisted and enraged to a killing point, and only one prescient guard running in to grab him by the arm saves Izumi’s life. “Milord,” the man says firmly, pulling back, “the Duke promised no mercy to any who killed him before paying the blood price. Karn needs you, Milord.”

Karn’s chest heaves, and he shakes off the man’s hand, disgust and something darker, something hollow, flaring in his eyes. “You’re on half rations from now on,” he spits to his guard, and fetches Izumi a last kick before he storms out, slamming the cell door, then the outer door.

“Y’shouldn’t mention her Ladyship,” the guard snarls, grabbing Izumi by the hair just to let go, letting his head smack against the ground again. “Milord’ll bid higher on your blood price now. Karn needs that money.”

Izumi growls disinterestedly at that, blinking to clear his vision when it starts spinning anew. “Take off this shitty collar and I’ll pay your way out of Karn,” he hoarsely breathes, his head tipping backwards. “Or whatever you want.” That burning, melting pain still persists, and it’s so much that he wants to close his eyes and just _sleep._

The man’s lips curl back from his teeth. “If I had the coin, I’d pay your blood price for Milord myself,” he snarls. “Milady died whelping your bastard.”

With that, he slams and locks the cell door, leaving Izumi alone in the cold...for now.

Being left alone with that doesn’t make the next hour go any faster. 

There’s maybe half a dozen others, all with that notch in their ear, none of which Izumi _really_ remembers. Even if he did remember them, he wouldn’t right now. His vision starts to go in favor of being black at the edges, and ah, that’s never a good sign. 

After awhile, the pain of that stone against his neck just leaves him a shivering mess, nullifying whatever else is done to him. Some of them just want to kick him until he’s coughing blood, others want to shove their cock wherever it’ll fit, others still want to cut him and just see him bleed. 

Still, his body won’t stop trying to heal itself, and so death, which Izumi thinks would be a polite end to this, honestly, alludes him. None of these men offer up knowledge about their wives or bastards, but maybe that’s because he keeps his mouth shut, for the most part.

It’s some time until he hears another pair of boots outside of his cell, and Izumi feels his teeth bare instinctively, his knees drawing up closer to his chest from where he curls against the floor. 

“My, my,” Duke Rodan murmurs, looking down at Izumi’s pathetic form. “This is the mighty Northern tomcat, hmm? You look more like a stray someone left out in the rain. Smell worse, though.”

He removes a flask from his jacket, taking a neat sip, then recapping it and tucking it away. “I’d offer you a drink, but it seems a waste to throw away on a treasonous dead man.”

Izumi’s lips curl. “Treasonous—that’s one I haven’t heard yet,” he mutters, staring up at the Duke warily from underneath his lashes. “Considering the shit you pulled to get me here, sir.” 

“You were overheard,” Rodan says with a shrug. “I have sworn statements from concerned soldiers who say they overheard you, your prince, and your Captain speaking of wishing harm to your king, and supplanting him, throwing your support behind the prince to advance your station. What is that, if not treason?”

“So hang me. Flog me to death.” Izumi’s eyes narrow to slits as he tries to ignore the little twist of panic in his gut. Hopefully, Arashi didn’t get caught up in this either—and gods, he hasn’t thought of Leo for hours, maybe they just left him for dead and his healing _worked._ “Did it piss you off so much that I didn’t want to climb on your dick, sir? I found a few better swordsmen to do that with, thanks.” 

“If you wish it,” Rodan says mildly, “I’ll deliver you to the king’s justice instead. You and your compatriots. Many of your Captain’s inner circle will need to be interrogated for sincerity, of course. Your mother and your Northern attendants as well. This gives me no pleasure.” He cocks his head, looking down at Izumi thoughtfully. “I almost wish it did.”

“Then what’s the point?” Izumi lowly presses, lowering his bound hands and ignoring the strange, niggling jolt of pain down his shoulders and spine that follows. “If you wanted me dead, you’ve had your chance tenfold. Or did you want to buy the right to slit my throat yourself?”

“Think it through, foolish boy. With your precious prince dead, I’ll inherit the crown. You don’t only buy men’s loyalty by fucking them, and you don’t buy it with coin. You buy it by giving them what they want. So instead of a violent, shameful struggle for power, your prince dies in an accident, you go missing in your grief, and the country stays strong in the eyes of our enemies. I pad my coffers, and twenty of my most loyal men remember that I gave them the vengeance they sought. And not for nothing, I would prefer not to see my nephew subjected to the sort of torture they reserve for traitors.”

“So instead you’ve given me a list of every man to kill, and a list of every house to be wary of for the rest of my life,” Izumi breathes, his head slowly tilting back to knock against the wall he huddles against. “Thank you, sir. That delights me.” 

“Nonsense. You won’t escape. I won’t bore you by telling you of the fortifications on this place.” Rodan takes another sip from his flask. “A good man would admit his crimes and beg for the noose.”

“A good man wouldn’t’ve killed his nephew. If you questioned my loyalty, then it’s me you should’ve killed and left him out of it.” 

Rodan looks down at Izumi, with something very like pity in his eyes. “Was it your idea, or his? Or that Captain--he isn’t my interest, but he’s made his own enemies, and they have their own ideas of how to dispose of him. Perhaps they already have. Which of you was it, that planted the seed of treason first? Why? He is not a bad king.”

“Talking about how we don’t approve of the king and some of the shit he doesn’t isn’t treason,” Izumi abruptly snaps, though the sudden temper behind the words makes him shudder as his body rebels with a twanging, agonized lurch. “None of us were seeking his death, least of all the prince. If you think any of us would have raised a blade against the king, you’re stupider than I ever thought you were.” 

“This,” Rodan says, shaking his head, “is why you would have made a piss-poor Kingsguard. We have witnesses, sworn soldiers, who swear they heard you say that everything would be better if the king were dead. Sowing this dissent _is_ treasonous, whether you raised a blade to him or not. What do they teach pages these days?”

“And yet I never fucking disobeyed him, did I? If he handed down an order, I followed it, didn’t I?” The sharp sting of tears makes his vision blur, and Izumi slinks back, shaking his head. “The prince never said those things. I stand by that. He never once fucking said it, and you killing him was _pointless._ A bloody loss.” He lifts his head, his eyes glittering, too-blue with his pupils still strange, narrow slits. “You’ll do good to make sure I’m dead. I won’t stop coming for you if I’m not.” 

“Threats, boy, are only effective if one can back them up. And at the very least, my dear nephew listened to you, backed you, and promised you rewards once the king was dead. You can dress it up as prettily as you want, but it is treason.” Rodan’s mouth thins. “Your king plucked you from obscurity and allowed you, a bastard half-breed, to study alongside the great hopes of the realm. Do you feel no gratitude to him?”

“I didn’t kill him even though I thought the realm would’ve been better off with him dead.” Izumi’s gaze doesn’t waver. “I protected his son with my life, every step of the way. That’s my gratitude.” 

Rodan’s face twists in distaste. “Thank you. You’ve firmed my resolution. I’ll admit, I paled at the idea of what would be done to you. I thought you were a good, intelligent, dutiful boy, even after I learned that you were a foolish one for rejecting my offer. But I see now that you don’t have a shred of loyalty beyond what you can put your cock into.”

He finishes his flask, then nods to Izumi. “Farewell, Izumi of the Sena house.”

“If that’s what you think of me…then I’m glad I rejected you.” Izumi’s eyes lid before he allows them to slide shut, a long, heaving sigh escaping his chest. “I’m exhausted. Kill me already.” 

“Plead for the noose if you want death. Otherwise, I’ll let the rest of the men keep bidding on you. When the price runs down enough, I’ll offer your death as a prize.”

Izumi’s lips purse. “I did nothing wrong,” he quietly maintains. “Fuck you and fuck your men.” Maybe, maybe, the longer they’re entertained with him, the longer Arashi can figure something out—or the more likely Leo will be okay, or…anything, honestly. “You’ll regret not selling off my death sooner.” 

Rodan pauses before leaving, then says quietly, “Your wizards said something similar.” Then, he leaves, letting the heavy door swing shut behind him.

 


	12. Chapter 12

Rei, first and foremost, is a wizard. 

On the side, he dabbles in gardening. 

It’s a cheerful sort of market to be in, especially in the desert. No one expects a vendor of flowers, and also, no one pays them any mind, unless you’re a whore looking to lure men, or a man, looking to lure a whore. 

It keeps his eyes open to a great deal as well. 

Rei can smell the blood behind the bar before he sees men leaving the scuffle, a silver-haired boy tossed over the shoulder of one of them. This time, it’s a strange scent. It smells less like the kind of blood seeping from an open wound by the minute, and more like blood that has stopped surging outward, and instead, seems intent on desperately regenerating. 

Interesting. 

_He casually wheels his flower cart over towards the alleyway. It’s empty now, except for the small, slight bundle tucked in a corner, and a single man still standing guard. “Oi,” the man snaps, and Rei can see how nervous he is, can smell it, by the way his pulse jumps and leaps, his hand already on his sword. “Move along.”_

The little shock of orange hair that peeps out from the bundle makes Rei’s eyes lid as he smiles. “Would you like to buy a flower, sir?” 

The alleyway is empty after that, his stomach is full, and the tell-tale orange shock of hair left behind is certainly not the same shock of hair that was left before.


	13. Chapter 13

The underground of Otogari desert castle is deep and cool and lined in wall-to-wall stone, all magicked to the nth degree to both suppress and shelter. 

Rei basks in that. 

The pallet in the corner is fit for the prince sleeping upon it, draped in heavy velvet for warmth in the chill of the basement room. Rei watches, turning the pages of his book slowly, his legs crossed at the ankle as he stretches out on a chaise next to him. It’s like watching a sick animal. Being fascinated in how he heals is one thing, but ah, it’s a delicate thing, when the prince sleeps the sleep of the dead, but isn’t dead, and only seems to keep recovering at a rapid rate. 

“What the fuck have you done now.”

The low, growling voice of one Koga, son of the Wolf King in the North, stirs Rei into tilting his head backwards, blinking over the arm of the chaise. “Ah. Koga. So you’ve found me—“ 

“Damn right we’ve found you.” Koga folds his arms over his chest, looking far more at home in the traditional draping, cream-colored muslins of the desert. He blends well with his tanned skin, and it’s only the dark grey of his hair that seems out of place. “The whole Sandlands are in a lockdown at this point—because of _him._ ” 

The jab of his fingertip in the sleeping young man’s direction makes Rei smile. “So I’ve learned. Ah, it was a shock to me, too. I had no idea who he was, prior to getting a real glimpse of that hair of his.” 

Koga exhales a long, frustrated breath. “He’s supposed to be dead.” 

“Well, he isn’t, is he?”

Koga’s mouth twists into a scowl, and he sniffs the air, once, twice. “Your magic is still sealed properly.” 

“Mm. I didn’t have to do a thing.” 

“I don’t like that.” Koga leans over the prince, scowling. “It smells weird.” 

“I think it’s interesting. Ahh, keep your voice down, he’s going to wake up at this rate.” 

Koga’s grip is white-knuckled on his own arms. “You have to stay down here,” he says after a moment, his voice lower. “You’re not the only one stirring shit up now. The necromancer—he raised hell, and so did your…” He trips over the word, the proper address, and Rei stares back at him, eyebrows raised until Koga manages it, with a struggle and a dark flush to his face. “Your consort.”

“I know.” 

“Don’t sound so calm about it! Everything’s moving too fast.”

“Why don’t you go and get some dinner for him, hmm? For when he wakes up.” 

Koga wavers, scowling again, and he turns on his heel unhappily. “If you get yourself killed, this is all over.” The door slams shut, and Rei sighs, shutting his book. 

“Well, little prince,” he murmurs, leaning down to gently comb Leo’s hair back from his face. “I better not get myself killed then, hmm?” 

Leo stirs, and wishes he hadn’t. 

No, the wakefulness is worth the pain, that’s _important_. If he doesn’t wake, he can’t change anything, and he won’t be able to help anyone, won’t be able to prove himself, won’t be able to find--

Izumi.

_He bolts upright, that name on his tongue despite the pain, and looks around, wild-eyed. He finally sights on the man above him, and blinks, stupefied. “Koray? Where am I? Where’s Izumi?”_

“Hmm? Ah, that’s his name,” Rei, also known as Koray, idly remarks, sitting back to give Leo space. “Don’t worry, you’re safe, little prince.” He leans back onto his pillows, chin in hand. “Your friend, Izumi? I’m still looking into that.” 

That isn’t the answer Leo wants. He struggles up, feeling a burning pain in his throat, clutching at it and feeling a healing scar. That’s...not good. If Izumi had been near, he’d have healed him immediately, there’s never been a scar. “Someone--took him, tried to kill me?”

“I’m afraid I’m a bit shaky on the details as well, Your Highness. By the time I reached you, your assailants were gone, and I believe your friend as well. Obviously he jump-started the healing process before he was taken, or you would’ve been very dead.” Rei’s head tilts. “It’s a strange ability. Useful, though.” 

_Taken_. The word sinks into Leo’s chest like a stone through water, and he throws off the heavy velvets, belatedly reaching up to see if his hair is covered. It isn’t, and he scowls. “How long have you known?”

Rei beams at him. “Until I found you in an alleyway, Your Highness, which was…mm, a day or so ago? I lose track of time down here.” 

“And you haven’t been out looking for Izumi?” Leo demands impractically, standing up and finding his body not entirely pleased with him. Too bad. “I’ll need to contact my father, do you know anyone with access to a messenger bird?”

“Your Highness, it’s not safe for you to leave right now. In fact, you’ll need to be smuggled out of this city, if you want to survive to search for your friend.” 

Rei lifts his head as Koga steps back downstairs, carrying a tray of food, and he smiles, waving a hand. “Sit down, Your Highness. You should eat something to get your strength back up.” 

“He’s awake already?” Koga incredulously asks, scowling at Leo. “The fuck are you made of?”

“That’s rude, be nice. Your Highness, this is my friend, Koga.” 

“Your friend,” Leo says slowly, nodding to the other man. “That’s fine. But who are you, really?”

“That’s such a prying question,” Rei complains, slumping backwards with a long sigh. “Ah~h, Koga, I’m tired, I’m hungry—“

“You sound like your shitty little brother, stop it,” Koga snaps, walking over to set the tray down next to Leo. “You’re not doing anyone any favors if you don’t heal up while you can,” he bluntly says. “Sit down and eat and I’ll tell you what we’ve found out so far.” 

Leo subsides, grabbing a date roll and stuffing it in his mouth, glaring as he chews. “Please. Tell me, I’m--I can’t be safe if he’s suffering for me, I _can’t_.”

Koga grunts, sitting down on the floor, legs folded up. “Officially,” he says, smacking away Rei’s hand when it reaches for his hair to pet it, “you’re dead, Your Highness. And your friend is missing.” 

Leo looks between the two of them, suspicious. “And you are? Officially, as you said?”

Koga spares a glance back at Rei, and Rei sighs, shrugging with a flutter of his hand. “Officially? I’m a delight.”

“Officially, he’s a fucking nuisance, but—“ Koga scowls, annoyed. “You did save his stupid life, I guess, so we’re returning the favor. He’s completely helpless when he’s all sealed up like this.”

“Like a real old man!”

“I’m Koga, son of the Wolf King in the North,” Koga proudly says, then his eyes slit as he glances back to Rei again. “And he’s Rei, first son of the Sakuma household, King of Demons and a wizard of the highest order.” 

Leo’s jaw drops. It isn’t often that he’s truly surprised, but this is something of a special case. “You’re...the Demon King of the Shadowlands,” he says slowly, repeating it to see if it sounds less crazy when he says it aloud. Nope, it still is. “That’s....so....” 

His eyes light up. “Cool! I studied you! Ah, wait, no, it’s cool that you’re the Wolf Prince, too--of the Lost Line? Ahhh, I’m surrounded by legends!!”

Rei and Koga slowly exchange a glance, then Rei sighs, shrugging, obviously delighted. “Look how cute he is,” he says with a smile. “This is why I like him.”

“You’re the worst,” Koga sighs, though he does appreciate the nice rub to his ego. “Anyway, yeah. That’s who we are. You’re in good hands, kid.”

“He calls you that, but he’s a baby, too,” Rei whispers, leaning forward as if Koga can’t hear him. “But he’s right, you’re in his strong, _wonderful_ paws—“

“I’ll kill you,” Koga growls, shaking his head. “Anyway. You’re dead,” he reminds Leo. “You can’t go running around like you own the place anymore. There was a coup, from the looks of it. Whatshisface, Captain Arashi of the Sharps? He was detained for questioning as well, but then—“

“Then a scary little necromancer decided that was no good. Troublesome, but romantic, so I like that.” Rei’s eyes lid. “It’s a huge mess, to be honest. I wish I knew what became of your friend, but…”

“By the looks of it, he’s been labeled a traitor to the crown.” Koga’s jaw is tense. “You need to expect the worst, Your Highness.” 

All of the air leaves Leo’s lungs. His world spins, and the aftertaste of dates turns to ash in his mouth. Arashi--detained. Mika--using his forbidden powers, doubtless with the Academy hunters on his trail. Shu--who knows? And Izumi...

“This is all my fault,” he groans, head falling into his hands. They’re cold to the touch, the way he feels inside. and his stomach churns. “I should...I should just turn myself in, say I was the ringleader. If they’ve convinced my father...”

“What good will you dying do?” Rei swiftly interrupts, leaning over the side of his chaise. “If they’ve convinced him, they’ve convinced him. What good will you surrendering do? This kind of mess is exactly the reason why you need to stay alive until you can take the throne. Wrap yourself back up in that blanket, you’re still not able to maintain body temperature after losing that much blood.” 

“What good will hiding do?” Leo demands. “I don’t have an army. I’m not about to kill my father. What can I do except try to trade myself for him? I...I might not be killed. I might just be exiled. And if I can save him, that’s worth anything.”

“Dumbass,” Koga mutters, stealing one of the meat buns off of Leo’s plate and taking a huge bite out of it as he jabs a finger in Rei’s direction. “You don’t need an army, you’ve got _him_.” 

“Shh, puppy, you have to be polite.” Rei’s eyes lid. “I understand how you feel, and I’m not telling you to kill your father. But you need to stay alive until he can be dealt with accordingly…and if you rush out right now and get yourself killed, you’re not going to be a help to anyone, least of all your lover. Waiting is half the battle.” 

“I never said he was my lover.”

“You never said he wasn’t.”

“I never said you weren’t my lover either, or Captain Arashi, or the baker around the corner.”

“You smell like him,” Koga exasperatedly chimes in, rolling his eyes. “Like, plain as day.”

“And I’ve never met a prince that cared about a page enough to trade his life for him,” Rei hums, fluttering his hand. “But if you’d rather I not mention it again, I can do that for you, Your Highness.” 

“It isn’t legal,” Leo says with a scowl. “Don’t give them another reason to despise us. Though I suppose with your own history, you’re no stranger to being hunted by the crown. I may need to take some survival tips from you on that point.” 

He sits back, yanking the blanket onto his lap. “I’ll take your advice. What do I do?”

“As if I’d say it around anyone that mattered.” Rei looks pleased, though, and he actually bothers sitting up, folding his hands in his lap. “You trust me, that’s what you do.” 

“There really...isn’t anything else I can do, is there?” Leo asks, quiet and unhappy. He runs through possibilities in his mind, and none of them end in him being happy, safe, healthy, and still with Izumi.

Well, then maybe it’s time to trust someone who has a history of defying the odds, and creating his own probabilities. “You escaped the Academy for a hundred years. How?”

“Knowing how to hide in plain sight.” Rei’s head tilts. “Ah, but specifics, I suppose. My magic is completely sealed. To _anyone_ , I feel like a completely normal human, you see. There’s a downside, of course. I’m completely helpless like this—so when you rescued me on the side of the road, that was legitimate.” 

Leo’s mouth twists. “I was really hoping it was a more esoteric and useful answer, you know. Oh...you said the necromancer. What happened to the wizards, and Captain Arashi?”

“I think it was a useful answer! Mmnn…” Rei hesitates, leaning back slightly. “My consort decided to take matters into his own hands as well. Ah, I can’t blame him. That does mean that the Captain and the little necromancer are both safe for now—as is Shu.” His eyes lid as he glances down at Koga. “Have you had any luck in sniffing them out?” 

“Nope.”

Rei’s relief is obvious. “Good. If the puppy can’t sniff them out, no one can. Ah, except me.” 

Wheels turn in Leo’s head, and he thinks, examining facts and probabilities. “It’s possible one of them betrayed us, you know. I don’t know them very well. But more likely, it’s Specs. Do you know who he is?”

“Shu and Mika would never betray me. The Captain…mmm, he has a blood pact on him, he can’t say a word. But Keito…I know who he is, and I find him delightful in his own way, but I don’t trust him.” Rei shifts restlessly. “As soon as we’re out of this city, I’ll need to open up at least a couple of channels. I dislike the idea of Shu running around unattended.” 

“I’m amazed you’ve waited this long,” Koga crossly mutters. “At least wait until I finish sniffing for that weird page.” / _I lost his scent an hour ago._ /

_/Did you? Unfortunate, don’t say that out loud._ / “Then by the time you’re finished, we’ll be ready to leave. I have allies in a number of places, Your Highness. I’ll see you to the throne…ah, so long as you return these favors later, of course.” 

At that, Leo’s eyes narrow. “I’m not my father. I won’t get my throne by promising favors along the way. If all you want is payback for a coup, I’ll take my leave now and take my chances with the Inquisitors.”

“You haven’t even heard what I was about to propose. Honestly, what a bratty child.” Rei’s fingers curl over his knees, drumming slowly. “All I want is some revisions to the Academy’s laws about wizards. That’s all.” 

“The king isn’t in charge of the Academy,” Leo recites dutifully. “He can influence policy, but the final decisions about wizard assignments and regulations are up to the Academy. You used to be a wizard, you should know that.”

“You know what I need from you, then. Influence them. _Firmly._ With the proper penalties handed out if they don’t comply. I won’t support another king that allows them to run amuck and treat us like slaves.” 

“If you’ve been talking to your wizards, you know I support reform in the regulation of wizards,” Leo says firmly. “And it isn’t because it’s a favor to anyone, it’s because it’s right. I want to be the kind of king who gives every citizen a fair chance at success and happiness, including wizards, citizens, knights, and those who would be slaves. If you’re not happy, it should be your fault, not the king’s!”

“If you keep that sort of passion, then you and I won’t have any issues.” Rei climbs to his feet, dragging his own blanket with him. “And if you keep your word on that, then I’ll kneel at your feet. But I’ll warn you now, child,” he breathes, his eyes glowing a low, glittering red. “If for some reason you go back on these pretty words of yours, I won’t lie in waiting a second longer. I didn’t _used_ to be a wizard—I still am one.” 

“Easy, old man,” Koga murmurs from his spot on the floor. “You’re getting cranky because you’re hungry.” 

“Ahhh, you’re right, I should take a nap.” Rei smiles, the sharp tips of his fangs flashing. “Puppy, come with me, I’ll pet you.” 

“Screw you,” Koga sighs, climbing to his feet and dusting himself off. “Stay put, Your Highness. You still smell weak.” 


	14. Chapter 14

It’s been nearly a week since the capture. That was terrifying, but somewhat exhilarating, finally using his powers for something besides the wearying troop movements of the army, besides the obnoxious, tiring task of pinpointing Berserkers and artillery for the archers. It feels good to flex his powers, to prove once and for all that he _is_ worthy of being a Nightcloak, of tossing power around with the best and highest echelons of the world, only four others worthy of standing at his side. It’s glorious...

And when the telltale scent of flowers fills the air, it’s nothing short of utterly terrifying.

There was a time that the smell of roses would have made Shu perk up, certain he was about to see a friend. Now, it’s nothing short of mind-numbing horror, as he whisks Mika and Arashi to another location, slamming a seal over their powers--a shoddy job, but effective--and dragging them down to an unoccupied basement.

And once they’re there, he drags a blanket over his head, starts shivering, and promptly collapses.

“Should we...move him?” Arashi asks softly, looking down at the huddled form that had obviously saved them all. He’s battered, beaten, with all his exposed skin showing bruises and cuts, but he’s alive, staring between Shu and Mika. Mika’s display of his “lil ghosties” had been utterly horrifying, but almost awesome to watch, ripping the roof off the place Arashi had been held, painting the walls with the blood and brains of his captors.

“No.”

Mika wobbles where he stands, pulling his own robes tight around himself, shivering. He prods tentatively at the seal, making _sure_ it’s strong, even though he knows it is. Nerves and paranoia make him second guess _everything._ “He just needs to stay like that, he’ll come out when he’s feelin’ better,” Mika murmurs, biting his lip as he looks Arashi over, but doesn’t meet his eyes. “That was really close. Like…” _So close I don’t want to think about it._

Arashi reaches out, almost pets Mika’s head, then thinks better of it, letting it fall to his lap. Every part of him aches, though he hadn’t broken any bones, hadn’t taken any lasting damage, when he’s pretty sure the beating they’d given him would have broken most people’s bones. Well, he’s always been hardy; what’s the good of it if not something like this?

Mika, though...he’s different. He’s special. He doesn’t take beatings and horrors in stride. The wrong word, the wrong thing, and Mika might just give up for good, after all he’d done. “Well...if there’s something I can do to help, him or you, let me know. I hate being useless, ugh.”

The second Arashi doesn’t pet his head, Mika bursts into tears. 

“I knew it, I knew it, you’d hate me if y’saw them like that, I knew you’d hate me!” Mika trembles, recoiling, throwing himself down next to Shu with a sob. He’s already overstimulated and overwhelmed, and he can’t think, he can’t, and the idea that Arashi _hates him_ —“I’m s-s-sorry, I just really w-wanted y’to be safe, this is my fault, I—“

Arashi, flabbergasted, just stares for a long minute. Then his soldier’s instincts kick in, and he dashes to Mika’s side, grabbing his shoulder with too much force, yanking him upright, crushing him to his chest. “No, darling, _darling_ , I don’t hate--I could never hate you, I love it when you use your magic, I wish I could see it all the time, I _swear_ , I’ve dreamed about it for over a decade, you’re _perfect_ \--”

Mika trembles for a long moment, unmoving against Arashi’s chest except for that, before he lurches in Arashi’s arms, clinging desperately to his waist, burying his face hard into his shoulder. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispers, shaking with every breath. “I…I need you to be okay, I need it, you c-can’t leave me, I won’t let anyone hurt you, I swear, I _swear_.” 

“I know, beloved, I know, all right? I’ve--I’ve always known it.”

Arashi strokes his hair, holding him so close he hears aching bones creak, sucking in a deep breath. “I was there. Here. When you bloomed. I came running, and one of your beasts, it saw me, and it just...”

The memory is so strong. He’s never spoken of it like this, never said what he’s always known, aloud. “There were so many people who died. But it just walked up, and looked at me, and...walked by.”

Mika’s chest heaves. His fingers fist against Arashi’s back, but he slowly stops crying, the noises softening to little, hiccuping breaths. “T…that’s because Arashi’s mine, always been mine,” he whispers, and he sags, his knees finally wobbling and giving out. “We’re stuck here,” he says, dangling from Arashi’s arms. “Master’s seal is too strong. No one can find us. But we can’t…we can’t leave, either.” 

_But there’s no food. But the longer we stay put, the higher chance they’ll find us._ Arashi doesn’t say any of that, just petting Mika gently. “I’ve never been afraid of you,” he says instead. “Never. Not once in my life. And I never will be.”

Mika hiccups again, then nods, slowly relaxing underneath Arashi’s touch. He still trembles occasionally, but he doesn’t hold on quite as tight, as desperately. “My lil’ ghosties know you,” he murmurs. “So that’s…that’s good. Nnn…you’re…you’re the best, _kara._ Ahh…but I dunno what to do…Master’s really not feelin’ good…” 

“So...when he’s not feeling good, what makes him feel better?” Arashi asks, trying to work through it. “Do you have to distract him with puzzles, or something? I knew a kid who had fits like this, you had to sing his favorite song a bunch of times...”

Mika slowly shakes his head. “You jus’ have to leave him alone.” He hesitates. “Unless you’re the King of Demons. Then y’can do whatever and he feels better. Maybe he’ll find us…maybe.”

“You said no one could find us?”

“He could. Even Master can’t stop his magic.” Mika bites at his lower lip. “But…but he keeps himself sealed up these days, Master says. So he might not be able to look for us right now.” 

“If he even knows he needs to,” Arashi says with a sigh. “Where...” He looks around the basement, investigating the color of the dirt, the placement of the building from what he can see. “We’re not in the Sandlands anymore, are we? The walls are damp. And we can’t be in the Harbors, they don’t have cellars. Where did your master snatch us?”

“…Dunno,” Mika wearily admits, continuing to dangle from Arashi’s neck. “Somewhere that felt safe to him. The smell of roses…” He shivers hard. “That’s the worst. That means…that means they’ve sent the strongest hunter of ‘em all after you. We got real close back there. The only good thing ‘bout that is…well…if _he_ knows, then the King of Demons knows. Probably.” 

A shiver runs up Arashi’s spine. “I don’t know that much about famous wizards,” he admits. “Just the ones I used to deliver letters to. I don’t think any of them were hunters. What’s this one like?”

“Scary.” Mika shakes his head, and tugs on the mussed ends of Arashi’s hair. “So scary. He’s a Nightcloak, like Master is. But he’s…nnhh.” He shakes his head firmly again. “He reports directly to th’ High Emperor. Illusions, he makes the scariest illusions I’ve ever seen, it’s so scary how real they are, it’s how he lures everyone in and traps ‘em and I…I’ve never experienced it myself or anythin’, but I’ve heard stories.” 

Arashi ponders that for a few long moments. Facing an enemy in battle is easy, compared to facing one that’s slowly stalking him. This...this feels like trying to sleep during a war, knowing that at any moment, a catapult or magical blast could rip through the camp and end his life, and he’d have no idea it was coming. “But your master--he’s a Nightcloak too, right? They’re supposed to be able to do damn near anything, right? So, we’re being chased by someone who can also do anything. Can we fight him? We’ve got you, _and_ your Master, _and_ me...”

“You’ll be useless, _kara_ ,” Mika quietly says, burying his face into Arashi’s neck. “Humans are useless against wizards like that. And Nightcloaks against other Nightcloaks…that’s jus’ bad. Things can cancel out, but sometimes, it’s a matter of who’s mentally stronger and…” He hesitates. “Master, he’s…he’s scared of this one, too.” 

“I’ve seen your master vaporize an entire encampment of Inglings, when he’s feeling good.” The idea of something that Shu is scared of makes Arashi’s stomach lurch. “What about you? Maybe if your Master can distract him or whatever, or at least keep him busy, you can use your...ghosties?”

“No.” Mika bites his lip. “He’s…he jus’ breaks ‘em in half. He has the High Emperor’s blessin’, nothin’ I can do about that.” 

“Okay, so we can’t beat him.” Arashi isn’t entirely sure about the truth of that, but Mika seems sure, and if it comes to it, Arashi has never met a wizard that didn’t die when poked enough by sharp steel. Well, that’ll have to be up to him, then. “How long can we hide? Will he get bored and stop looking if we avoid using magic for long enough?”

“…Maybe,” Mika hedges. “But…the thing is…he’s like a bloodhound, y’know? He’s got our magical signature now. He’ll stop, but if he smells us again, he’ll show up. It might be a day, it might be a week, it might only be a second, but he’ll be there. Unless the King of Demons finds us first…then he might be able to get us somewhere safer.” Mika spares a nervous glance over to Shu. “Maybe if he jus’ lifted the seal for a second…”

Arashi sits back. This doesn’t sound good. “Your Master...” He spares a look at Shu, huddled, curled onto his side, shuddering. “How long can he keep the seal in place?”

“…Longer than you’d think.” 

Mika slowly unwinds himself from Arashi to pad his way over to Shu, and drops back down next to him, kneeling next to his side. “Master,” he quietly tries, not lifting the blanket from Shu’s head. “Master…I’ve got an idea, but I dunno if it’s a good one, can you hear me?” 

Dextrous fingers emerge, slowly pulling the blanket away from Shu’s pale, sweating face. He darts his eyes around the room, then slowly sits up, hiccuping slightly. “Y-yes, what is it?”

“If the Faerie knows, then the King of Demon knows,” Mika quietly points out, slowly, carefully reaching out to pet the top of Shu’s head. “That means he might be looking. He might unseal himself for you, don’t you think? So maybe…if you let the seal flicker, just for a second…” 

A tear spills out of Shu’s eye, and he squeezes them shut firmly. “I need...Milady.”

Arashi looks around, but he already knows the answer. “She’s...she’s not here.”

Mika flaps a hand firmly, urging Arashi to _hush!_ “We’ll get her, as soon as we’re somewhere safer, yeah?” he gently presses. “Master—please, y’know even if the Faerie shows up, him and Rei won’t fight. You gotta reach for him, somehow or another.” 

“Don’t be stupid, you utter failure. I can’t risk _losing_ you, use your useless head!”

“Master, I’m not lettin’ you die!” The words are snapped out with more force than Arashi has probably _ever_ heard Mika talk to Shu with, and he reaches out, snatching Shu up by the shoulders. “But we’re gonna, if we sit here! I…I can’t let you die, or Arashi, so you gotta help, too, b-but I can’t do it, I’m not strong enough.” Stinging tears make his eyes ache, and Mika blinks hard, sniffling. “W-we can’t stay here forever. I…I don’t know what else t’do.” 

“D-don’t be ridiculous,” Shu whispers, a trace of his old arrogance flaring, despite how shaken he looks. “I can keep this seal up forever if I have to. I’ll just, we’ll keep hiding, it’s fine.”

“I hate hiding,” Arashi mutters.

“No one asked you, you muscle-bound brute!”

“That’s no way to talk to a lady!”

“Stop it!” Mika huffs, scrubbing at his eyes with one shaky hand. “Both of you! Master, unless you’ve got a better idea, I’m gonna step outta the seal and drag them here myself! Arashi’s right, we can’t keep hidin’, we…we gotta do _somethin’_ , or we’ll have to keep doin’ this forever and…and I can’t, it’s too scary to not know what’s gonna happen, or when someone’s gonna come and…I _can’t_.” 

“Just--be quiet,” Shu snaps, chest heaving as he tries not to panic. “I’m already working on it, all right? I’m just--I need to formulate a flare so my lord will know it’s me, and know it’s urgent.”

His hand shakes as he brushes the hair back from his face. “He might be asleep, though. And if he is, that damned winged menace will hear me so much faster, even if I’m not speaking to him...”

“But it’s night, right?” Mika bites at his lip again, worrying it until it hurts. “He’s always awake at night. Ahh, I’m sorry, Master, I…I know you know what’s best, but I just, I…” _After what happened to Arashi, this is so much scarier than I even imagined it to be._

“Use your head, fool, he could be hibernating,” Shu snaps. “He told me he slept through the entire Water Dominance War. But...I don’t feel like he is.” 

He wipes a hand down his face, then squares his shoulders, sitting up straight. “Well. Get ready to run. If you call your beasts, you can at least hide your own escape, if this goes spectacularly pear-shaped.”

Arashi stands, tugging Mika up by the arm. “I’ll carry you,” he promises. “No one is faster than I am.”

Mika huffs, the nods, latching himself back to Arashi. “I’ll…I’ll hide all of us,” he quietly swears. “And if it goes bad, we can just hide again for good. Until it’s safer.” 

Shu’s eyes flick up, catching Mika’s. “Promise me now,” he says quietly, switching his gaze to Arashi, “that you’ll take him and go.”

“Your Excellency, I’m not leaving without--”

“If this goes wrong and the Faerie finds me before my lord does,” Shu interrupts, “my life is forfeit. At least let me know that no matter what, Mika will survive. Or I won’t do it.”

Mika hesitates visibly, but he swallows, glancing down. “…Your lord won’t let that happen,” he quietly says. “So. Yes. I promise.” He has to believe in that—he _has to_ , because everything he’s ever seen and felt, everything Shu has ever told him…that proves it, but…putting it to the test is something else entirely. 

Shu nods, satisfied, and his trembling stops. He stands, breathing deeply, face settling into an expression that’s more at peace than he has been for years. The world feels flat and stale without his magic, void of the life and liveliness he’s used to seeing everywhere. Another deep breath--another sight of Mika, the one unadulterated good thing he’s saved in his life--and he drops the seal.

/My lord. Find me. I’m here./

_He doesn’t bother adding anything else. Rei will know that he wouldn’t send such a message unless his situation is dire._

Everything happens at once, and even clinging to Arashi makes the world feel like it suddenly tilts on its axis. 

The sudden surge of power that sweeps around them feels almost like wind, and from the soggy earth sprouts every little flower that has laid dormant for gods know how long, bursting up through the basement floor to make the room suddenly that much more green. The ground shudders, the walls creak, and just as suddenly as Shu lifts his own seal, something else replaces it—ironclad and deafening, leaving them in such absolute, intense silence that makes Mika wince, his face buried into Arashi’s chest. 

“I thought you would never ask, love.”

The King of Demon’s voice is as soft and low as Mika remembers it, and it’s not in shadow that he raises himself, but from behind Shu, draping a silvery, shimmery cloak lined in red velvet around his shoulders. Rei smiles, his eyes lidded, glowing red behind the long waves of pitch black hair that frames his face and pool down his back, sharply contrasting with the long, cream-colored coat that he’s wrapped in. “You’re a mess, Shu.” 

The relief that infuses every drop of Shu’s blood is akin to an opiate, it’s so powerful. He turns, choking back an embarrassing noise, and rests his hands lightly on Rei’s chest. It doesn’t feel real, that Rei is _here_ after so long, that kindly look in his eyes, that Rei’s powerful magic is giving his frazzled mind a rest, that he can feel the heat of Rei’s body. The cloak soothes him, though not as much as Rei’s presence, easing away the ills of his mind as he shudders. “Yes. Well. That’s your fault for being gone so long, obviously.”

A joyful cacophony of bells suddenly splits the air--bells as large as houses, so loud the basement floor shakes. “My old friend!” The merry voice echoes through the entire town, magically amplified. “It will be so much more amazing fun if you show your face!”

“So noisy,” Rei mutters, sweeping his own cloak around Shu in kind, blanketing him as he drags him close with a firm arm around his waist. “Come here, little bird,” he adds, crooking a finger towards Mika. “Bring your soldier.” 

Mika hesitates visibly, but he clings to Arashi’s arm still, giving it a shaky tug. The sound of the Faerie’s voice makes his knees knock together, freezing him in place from fear. “I…” 

“We can’t stay here. Ah, he won’t fight me, but he will certainly think more than twice about the rest of you.” Rei tips Shu’s chin up with a gentle thumb against it. “If I send you three away, can you do the rest? I’ll handle him.” 

Shu leans into Rei’s touch, melting as a flower to the sun, eyelids heavy. “I can do anything, if you’re close,” he says softly, nodding, folding himself into Rei’s embrace after such an achingly long time. “Where are we going? Do I need to have a veil up immediately, or will a seal suffice?”

“High Harbor. I’d rather have all of you stashed in one place while I figure out how to best manage all of this.” Rei exhales a slow breath, briefly shutting his eyes as he lets himself give into the urge to press a kiss to the top of Shu’s head. He’s loathe to let him go, to send him _anywhere_ , but in a situation like this… “My holdings there are already heavily protected. Just seal yourself in and wait for me where I lead you.” 

Shu fists his hands in Rei’s shirt, grabbing firmly, though he doesn’t do anything so crass as yank him down for a kiss. “If you make me wait another six years,” he says, quite emphatically, “I will be extremely put out. Now--”

The bells ring again. In the distance, a child starts crying. 

“Shuuu~uuu, my old friend! You must want to fight, or why summon me? I’ll oblige you with delight! Ah, are you here?” A door crashes open--not their door, not yet, but not far. “My apologies, madam!”

Rei grabs Shu’s face in his hands, kissing him hard when Shu won’t instigate the same before shoving him back into both Mika and Arashi, cloak and all. “I won’t make you wait—both of my princes are there, be kind to them,” he firmly insists, and a sweeping blanket of shadow engulfs the three of them, scooping them up and ripping them from the basement in short order.

Left on his own, Rei is far more at ease. He draws in a slow, calming breath, folding his arms across his chest. “You’ve just missed him, I’m afraid,” he calls back. “We can play instead, Wataru.” 

There’s a pause, then the door to the basement shimmers, disappearing for a moment as a tall man in a black cloak strides through, long pale blue hair shining in the morning light. His angular face is lit with first wary delight, then slight disappointment. “You’ve robbed me of my prey, old friend. It won’t stop me, but I’ll oblige you, if you want to play for now.”

“I robbed you of nothing you were allowed to have in the first place,” Rei blithely says, the smile curling his lips wry. “You look well. Being so deliciously cozied up to the High Emperor seems to treat you kindly.” 

Wataru beams, tossing his hair back. “His High Excellency is ever thoughtful when it comes to my treatment. He feeds his pets well, of course, and loves none so much as I.” He looks around the basement, apparently quite pleased. “Hmm. Shall we fight? I doubt either of us will win in any meaningful way, but I will, if you wish it.”

“I’d rather not,” Rei forthrightly replies, stepping away from the wall and drawing his own cloak more firmly about himself. “This little town doesn’t deserve to be in that sort of peril, does it? Between the two of us, the entire place would be brought back down to the ground.” 

“Shall we adjourn to the skies?” Wataru asks merrily, looking up towards the ceiling. “How are your wings these days, O Great Demon King? Ahh, Rei, I’ve missed you so.”

“And I’ve missed you, Wataru.” Rei hesitates. Reasoning with Wataru is something nigh impossible. He knows that, and yet… “But I won’t fight with you. Now isn’t the time or place.” 

Wataru, for once, pauses. He looks around at the little town, then unfolds his wings, great gossamer creations that expand out behind him, filling the basement before disappearing into the ether once more, ready to be called upon. “I will not stop chasing them,” he warns softly. “It’s my sworn duty.”

“I know. I would expect nothing less from you. But you’ll be fighting me when you’re finally fed up with chasing, I suppose, so you can look forward to that.” Rei’s expression shifts to something far more disappointed. “Wataru…he considered you a friend, you know.” 

“And I him. I still do! Shu is a dear friend of mine, and one of the beings closest to my heart in the world.” Wataru’s smile doesn’t waver, and the light in his eyes doesn’t dim. “We all have our first loyalties, though, do we not?”

“First loyalties are one thing—“ Chasing down your friends, mowing them down and defeating them and killing their loved ones for the sake of those loyalties—how can you even call them your friends at that point?

_But Rei doesn’t say that, because there’s no point in trying to explain that to Wataru, when Wataru probably can’t understand it. “…And you understand where my loyalties are. Ahh, I should get going. You can follow me if you like, but you know I won’t lead you to him…so how about you run back to your Emperor, hmm?”_

“I _do_ languish when I am apart from my Emperor,” Wataru says with a sigh. It’s a decent excuse, though not one he needs. “Rei...I hope it’s worth all this, in the end. For all of us. And when we finally meet in glorious battle, may he whose love is purest prevail!”

With that, he explodes into a shower of glittering light, slowly fluttering to the basement floor, bells clanging in the atmosphere.


	15. Chapter 15

The King of Demons has an _estate_ , which is news to Mika. 

It’s not a regular estate, of course. The entire place feels sealed down and veiled from head to toe, which means they don’t have to be confined to a basement with magicked walls. That’s comforting, but also scary, and Mika opts for hiding in the room offered to him by the lady of the house (who is definitely not a lady, but the only way he knows that is how he drops the act around them, cursing and snarling about how _he_ wants to go fight, why isn’t Rei letting _him_ do anything). 

Eventually, Mika emerges, the desire to check on Shu—and maybe get a glimpse of the prince—overwhelming his anxiety about being anywhere close to out in the open. He half-expects those bells to start ringing again, for the Faerie to leap out of the shadows, but that doesn’t happen, and Mika sighs as he slowly relaxes, peering out of the wide, open windows that face the harbor. Hiding in plain sight…Rei wasn’t wrong about that, but it’s been days now, and the fear that something has happened to him won’t go away. Combining that with Arashi’s own worries about Izumi makes his head ache. 

“Hot cocoa?”

The voice is timid and gentle, coming from a tall man with thick glasses. His hair is perpetually mussed, blue waves falling messily around his face as he tries unsuccessfully to push them away. He wears no wizard’s cloak, but a tailored suit such as one the nobility wear to informal meetings or markets, and carries a steaming cup in each hand. A clinking sound accompanies him wherever he walks, coming from the dangling bunch of talismans attached to his belt, well-worn from being turned over and over in his hands. He holds out one cup. “To calm the nerves.”

Mika turns, and the sudden, odd flare that reflects against his vision when he _looks_ at this man makes him wince. It’s gone in the next instant, however—it’s peculiarly, automatically shielded, whatever it is. “Ahh…that would be nice, Milord,” he murmurs warily. He’s _sure_ that whoever Rei pays to maintain his household is safe, but it still makes him nervous all the same. Most people do, to be fair. “Um…you’re th’ lord of the house, r-right? I think I met your, ah, wife, but…” 

“Ah, I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself, how rude of me! I’m Tsumugi, ah, you can call me by name.” The man gives an awkward bow, then holds out the cocoa again insistently. “I’m watching this place for Rei. It’s listed in my name, but I’m not exactly...ah, I mean, I am the lord, but it’s in name only, I’m watching it for Rei. You’re Mika, right? I remember you from the Academy, a bit.”

Mika nods hesitantly, and slowly wraps his hands around the cup of cocoa. “Thank you. Um…I’m sorry, I don’t remember you,” he says, embarrassed, but he slowly relaxes. If this is someone from the Academy that even Rei can trust…then he must be good people. “Ah—“ Then it occurs to him, in a worrisome memory. “Wait. You…did you…your name, it sounds familiar, I think? I don’t wanna assume, but weren’t you…one of the High Emperor’s attendants?”

Tsumugi gives a small, not entirely genuine smile. “I was, yes. Mm, but things change, don’t they?”

“…he let you just…step away like that?” Mika’s voice shakes a little in his disbelief, and he stops it by taking a sip of cocoa. It burns his tongue, but it’s intensely sweet and warming, so that’s something. “I thought the Emperor bound all of his servants to him.” 

“Ah, Mika, please don’t think that anyone can compel you against your will,” Tsumugi says, genuine and earnest as he steps forward, resting his elbows on the railing. “There may be a price to pay for leaving, but it’s _always_ worth it.”

Mika bites his lip at that, and he lets his back thump against the railing as he leans against it. “If you’re a wizard, you’re very good at hidin’ it,” he says softly. “I can’t feel a seal on you, but somethin’s blockin’ me from seeing you properly. I can’t hide like that, it doesn’t work.” 

“I’m quite good at hiding,” Tsumugi assures him. “It’s my only real skill, I suppose. Not like your incredible talents, they’ve been talking about those at the Academy for quite a few years.”

Mika grimaces at that. “They don’t talk about it ‘cause it’s incredible,” he mutters, and sips at his cocoa again. “It must be nice bein’ able to hide like that. No wonder the Demon King’s got you workin’ for him now.” He hesitates, glancing down. “What’s he like? The High Emperor.” 

“Eichi?” Tsumugi looks out over the courtyard, and the city beyond. His eyes grow distant, but not cold, and his hands slowly rotate the cup in his hands. “More human than they give him credit for. I know they say he’s immortal, because he’s over ninety and looks twenty, but he’s just preserved his looks. He’s as prone to illness and injury of anyone over ninety. And they never talk about how much he likes gardening, or the meatballs they sell on a stick on the street, or his tea room.”

“It’s hard to think that he’s human,” Mika quietly says, “when he keeps sendin’ hunters to kill us and the people we love. Or condones that kinda thing in the first place. Or _likes it._ It’s hard to believe he’s got anyone’s best interests at heart, y’know?” 

“He’s lived a long time,” Tsumugi says, in the same subdued tone. “Probably too long. He used to be great, you know? Back in the War of Night, he unified all the fractured houses and brought them together, back to the Academy. That saved a lot of lives. So now...he thinks that unity is the only way to strength, I think.”

“That’s not a good enough excuse for killin’ people. The Demon King’s lived a long time, he don’t kill no one like that. Or let us be _slaves._ ” 

“Which is why I’m here,” Tsumugi says gently, “and not at the Academy.”

Mika grumbles, and swallows down a huge mouthful of cocoa. “Then stop defendin’ him,” he moodily says. “Makes y’sound like a traitor. You’ll make Master real upset if you say nice things about the High Emperor, just so you know.” 

“Is it nice?” Tsumugi asks, sounding honestly curious. “To think that he is so human and capable of kindness, yet chooses to be cruel...I should think that’s the most damning thing of all. True monsters are just acting according to their nature, are they not?”

“Any kind of defense for a guy like that is nice.” Mika sticks his tongue out. “I don’t like any part of it. I’m glad y’don’t work for him anymore, you seem like a nice guy, but…I don’t think anyone that likes the High Emperor’s all there in the head.”

“Ah, you’re probably right,” Tsumugi says, reaching down to finger one of the charms at his waist with a nervous little laugh. “You’d like Natsume a lot, I think, he’s the one pretending to be my wife. He thinks much like you do.”

“Master likes him, too.” _Because he looks cute in dresses, first of all._ “He, ah. Doesn’t seem to like playin’ your wife all that much? By the sound of it?” 

“Oh, no, he thinks I’m very weak and useless,” Tsumugi assures him. “I’m afraid he thought I was rather cool to betray the Academy like I did and was expecting someone a bit...stronger, perhaps?”

“Hmm. But you’ve got a real soothin’ kinda personality, so that’s nice. I like that kinda person.” Mika finishes off his cocoa with a sigh. “But—“

“Oi! Tsumugi!”

Mika nearly jumps out of his skin, and bolts to the other side of Tsumugi in short order, more or less hiding behind him as none other than Koga storms down the hall, eyes narrowed. “Did you hear the news? Or have you been sitting around chatting?” 

“Chatting,” Tsumugi says cheerfully. “Ah, Sir Koga, nice to see you! How are you feeling today? Your astrology is rather grim, I’m afraid, I was going to go check on you--”

“I’m gonna punch you,” Koga threatens, reaching over to grab the front of Tsumugi’s shirt and shake him roughly. “How d’you expect to run shit here for Rei if you don’t pay attention?! The North just fucking _seceded_ and you’re having hot chocolate, give me a break!” 

“Ah, I hope my hot chocolate didn’t trouble the North,” Tsumugi says worriedly, setting down his cup to keep it from spilling, then letting himself be shaken like a rag doll. “What does Rei want me to do about it? I’ll go ask him.”

“Act like a man for once! Who knows when he’s gonna be back! All of High Harbor’s nobles are gonna be involved in this, one way or another.” Koga releases him with a scowl. “More importantly, though—we’re gonna need to increase security on this whole place, especially with the prince. Once he gets word of this…who knows what he’s gonna do.” 

“Scary,” Mika murmurs, huddling behind Tsumugi.

“What’s scary? Ugh, they don’t make wizards like they used to, you’re all so weak.” 

“You’re very intense, aren’t you, Oogami?” Tsumugi asks, sounding a little shaken, thumbing through several of his charms. “Ahh, Mika, perhaps you should go back to your chambers, I think things might get a bit loud or frightening out here. Shu probably doesn’t handle loud noises well still, right?”

“I’ll show you loud and intense! He left all this in your care, the least you can do is man up and—“

Mika quickly backtracks, a hasty bow all he offers as he flees. “Bye, ah, um, Tsumu!” Close enough. _Has Arashi heard about this yet?_ Mika worries, hurrying back down the hall, and subsequently, runs straight into the chest of the King of Demons. He stumbles back with a squeak, eyes wide, and Rei doesn’t even blink, patting his head with a soft hand. 

“There’s a good boy. Easy, easy. Ah, where’s your Master?” 

“Here.” 

The weary voice comes from behind Rei, Shu standing tall and unstooped, but obviously tired. “Come, Mika, don’t be afraid. You know by now that Rei won’t hurt you, don’t you?” He steps closer to Rei, wordlessly affectionate in as much as he can be in front of other people, reaching out a beckoning hand for Mika.

Mika hurries towards him, latching onto Shu’s arm in short order, and Rei smiles, even if he’s tired in his own right. “Finally,” he murmurs, turning and reaching out, placing his hands atop Shu’s shoulders. “You’re in _my_ home. Ah, I rode for days to return to you, I’m so glad you look well.” Desperately avoiding beaten paths and magical usage to return home—it’s worth it. “I know you’re tired, but the makeshift seal I’ve stamped upon myself is threatening to break at any moment, and I need your assistance to put it back properly.” 

“Of course, my lord,” Shu says, drawing himself up to his full height. “Despite the rumors that accursed emperor has spread, I do still have enough magical power to do something so simple. You, at least, do not underestimate me, ha!”

“Mm, of course I don’t. Come then, Mika can come as well, if he likes.” 

Mika nods firmly, clinging to Shu’s arm still. Rei takes Shu’s other arm to guide him along to his chambers, and the tension in his own touch is now palpable. “I rode through some interesting activity. There’s quite a bit of unrest, which I think I like.” 

“I heard. Something about those folk up in the North--can you tell, my lord, if the Sena boy is truly dead?” Shu asks, trying not to sound audibly worried. “He _is_ a half-blood, I can’t imagine what it would take to truly end such an extraordinary life.”

“My puppy hasn’t been able to sniff him since we were back in the Sandlands,” Rei quietly answers. “Which doesn’t bode well. If he is alive…well, I commend him, I suppose. Being able to allude Koga’s nose while still being along the living is a feat even I’m usually incapable of, unless I’m fully sealed.” 

He opens the door to his chambers, pulling Shu and his attached Mika inside before locking it and sagging back against the door with a long, ragged sigh. A bead of sweat drips down from his temple, and Rei shuts his eyes, wiping a hand down his face. “We’ll talk more about that in a moment. Shu, if you would, please.” 

Shu gently detaches Mika’s hand from his arm, moving to place his hands on Rei’s head, fingertips lightly touching at his temples. An intake of breath, a shuddering shiver of magic, and a seal clicks shut over Rei’s magic--not as heavy, not as shakingly final, but with vastly more finesse and refinement, eliminating even the tiniest crack or spill. His head aches, but the seal is one of the best he’s ever done, and the pride he feels more than outweighs the pain. “There,” he breathes, eyes alight, letting his hands trail down over Rei’s hair, resting on his chest. “I dare him to find you now.”

“Master’s so cool,” Mika breathes, the wavering tension that he had felt before suddenly replaced with resounding silence and stillness. 

Rei sags back with a relieved sigh, and he reaches up, closing his hands over Shu’s, squeezing them gently. “Ahh…thank the gods, that’s so good, you’re so good.” He pulls on Shu’s hands. “Stay close, let me hold you. I’ve missed you so.”

Shu’s cheeks flush, and he darts a glance at Mika. “Don’t be vulgar,” he murmurs, though he makes no effort to pull away, in fact taking a step closer until they’re nearly chest to chest, those few scant centimeters of height difference more apparent up close. His pulse pounds, but from arousal rather than magical exertion, for the first time in long weeks. “We’re not alone.”

“I don’t mind,” Rei hums, which is absolutely not the answer Shu wants, he knows, but it doesn’t stop him from sliding both arms around Shu’s lean waist, squeezing him. “Look how beautiful you still are. How can I behave myself?” 

“Master, it’s been forever,” Mika exasperatedly says, even from where he makes himself at home on a sofa, snuggled up with several opulently squishy pillows. “You can kick me out, or I’ll be over here, not in the way.” 

Shu hesitates, then winds his arms around Rei’s neck, the way he’s wanted to for years, exhaling deeply. “He’s used to watching,” he murmurs, though his face is still hot. “It was all either of us could do for years, though...Mika, are you sure you don’t want to go find your Captain? You can have him here, you know.”

Mika’s head tilts, contemplative, and Rei flutters a hand in his direction. “Do what you like, little bird, but forgive me if I’m preoccupied. Shu…” 

Rei’s fingers hook into the high collar of Shu’s shirt, easing it down for his mouth to press to the pale skin of his neck. “You smell _so_ good, love,” he murmurs, his other hand’s fingers splaying against the small of his back to keep him close. 

_Ooh, too intimate._ Mika’s expression shifts wry and amused, and he rolls off the couch and to his feet. “Later, Master,” he teases, and swiftly trots out of the room, shutting the door with a click behind himself. 

“That’s a good boy,” Rei says with a laugh, kissing Shu’s neck again. “All to myself, that’s how this should be.”

Shu exhales finally, melting forward against Rei, his skin tingling and twitching, body rousing within bare seconds as he presses forward, hands sliding down to touch Rei’s neck, his lips, his chest, then slide up under his many layers, deftly getting to bare skin as fast as possible. “Make use of your time,” he breathes, a bit shaky now that he has the actual opportunity to do as he likes. 

No, it’ll be fine. Rei knows that he isn’t practiced at this sort of thing, and isn’t expecting him to be. And Mika is out of the room, meaning that one more person who could mock his lack of experience is gone. Good. When he wriggles helplessly just at a kiss to his neck, who knows how embarrassing he’ll be when Rei has him stripped? “You should...take my clothes off,” he whispers, saying the filthiest thing he can think of.

Rei exhales a soft snort of amusement as he pulls open the first few buttons of Shu’s collar. “Should I? Is that all?” he teases, his thumb brushing along the jut of Shu’s collarbones. “You have the softest skin. Ahh, let me do more than that, to the bed with you.” 

He catches up Shu’s hand, pulling him abruptly towards the bed and dumping him back onto it in a heap. Every nerve in his body vibrates— _mine, this is mine, finally, he’s in_ my _bed and I can touch him how I like_ —and Rei’s breath catches up in his throat as he follows after Shu, deft hands spreading his thighs to kneel between them, his fingers shaking as they methodically unsnap and unlace everything in sight. “I haven’t touched anyone in years,” he breathes, his mouth hovering just over Shu’s, his hair falling down in a messy black tumble to frame their faces. “I couldn’t, not after I met you.” 

All Shu can do is be grateful that Rei has been a wizard, knows the intricacies of his clothing as well as he knows it himself, and seems as committed to getting it _off_ as Shu is himself. He automatically brings up his hands to stop Rei, muscle memory after so long, then forces them down to the bed with a huff. “Just--touch me,” he implores. “I don’t think I’m--I’m not ready to touch you, but I require you to...Rei, please touch me, I’ve never...”

“I know, I know, shh.” Rei plants a kiss to the corner of his mouth, silencing him. “Just put your arms around me, love,” he murmurs, and unravels the last of those lacings in short order. “Mmn, once I’m done undressing you, of course. Here, sit up, this is _all_ coming off.” 

Rei pulls Shu up before he can comply on his own, and swiftly eases both robes and all of that _obnoxious_ underwear off, tossing it to the floor with all the practice of someone _very_ used to undressing others. “There we are.”

He grabs up Shu’s face in his hands, kissing him softly, then again, and again, his teeth catching against Shu’s lower lip before he draws back again. “You’ll let me take care of you, won’t you?” Rei’s own breath comes harder, his chest heaving from the effort it takes to not just _pounce_ and eat him alive. “I’ve wanted to, since the day I met you.” 

“If you don’t, I’ll die,” Shu breathes, turning his head to pant into the pillow, cock achingly hard and on the verge of spilling just from being exposed to the air while aroused. The idea that Rei can _see_ it, see _all_ of it, makes him squeeze his eyes shut in an effort to come back from the edge already. “If you touch it, it’s over,” he admits, spreading his legs, looking down in mild embarrassment as his hips twitch up against empty air, desperate and needy. “M-maybe even if you d-don’t--”

“Good.”

Rei presses another kiss to Shu’s throat as his fingers drag down Shu’s stomach, petting along soft skin until his hand finds his cock, achingly hard and hot against his palm. He groans, his head thunking down against the bed as he squeezes, strokes, his touch deliberate and thorough as he sucks on the side of Shu’s neck. “It’s fine if you’re fast,” he breathes. “I’ll take care of you again, and again, until you’re completely satisfied.” 

Shu rather thinks that even if he were the world’s most experienced lover, his limbs would still seize in sudden arousal, pleasure whiting out his mind as he arches, releasing hot and wet and thick over Rei’s hand in a bare second, every part of him aching and satisfied in a heartbeat. “R-Rei,” he pleads, not knowing what he’s pleading for, what he could possibly be pleading for when Rei’s hand is more than he’d ever expected. His arms flop uselessly at his sides, and he blinks tears out of his eyes, shamelessly shoving his hips up again. “Again and again,” he whispers. “You promised.”

Feeling Shu come all over his hand makes arousal rake sharply down his own spine, and Rei sucks in a sharp breath, his fingers dragging through the mess, far from pulling away. “I promised,” he agrees, scooting his knees up closer between Shu’s spread thighs. “I promised, I won’t stop. You’re already a mess, though, aren’t you?” 

Rei leans back, shrugging off his jacket, then unlacing his shirt and pulling it up and over his head to toss the layers to the ground. He pulls at the laces of his breeches before he pauses, and grabs for Shu’s hand instead, no matter how shaky and useless his grasp seems to be. “Don’t you want to unwrap what’s yours, love?” 

As shaky and useless as he may be, Shu is _good_ at clothing. His fingers make short work of the laces, and delve immediately inside, cupping and stroking with a low hiss of breath, carefully tracing the contours of something he’s never been allowed to touch before. His own breath comes slow and ragged, all of his focus in his sensitive fingertips as then brush over every line, curve, swell, dip. “It’s...beautiful,” he breathes, entranced, pupils dilated wide.

That touch alone nearly fells him.

Rei lifts a hand to his own mouth, stifling a low, hungry groan as he pitches forward against that touch, his knees splaying further apart on the bed as he ruts helplessly into Shu’s hand for a moment. “You’re…going to do me in like that, you know,” he pants out, sagging forward until he buries his face back into Shu’s neck, kissing, sucking as he rolls against Shu’s palm. “I dream of your hands—“ His own hand grabs for the other one, lacing their fingers together with a firm squeeze before Rei pins it next to Shu’s head. His cock aches, twitching in Shu’s grasp as he slowly grinds down, sliding hard and heavy against his palm. 

“I’m--”

Shu swallows hard, breath stuttering and dying in his throat when Rei feels even better to the touch than his hand did, when he’s got all the liberty he wants to rub and touch and stroke that he wants. It’s a heady sort of power, and that along with the sweetly intriguing mouth on his neck makes him hiss out a breath that turns into a moan. “I could come again just from feeling you like this,” he whispers, looking up at Rei, lost in those dark eyes.

“Good,” Rei gasps, tilting his head to let his teeth eagerly nip at an earlobe, sucking it into his mouth. He fumbles to slide a hand between them, and readjusts Shu’s grip to wrap around the two of them, letting their cocks slide together in their combined grasp. “You’re so beautiful,” he rasps, burying his face into Shu’s neck, his breath hitching raggedly every single time he can smell Shu’s pulse spike and jump. “I…ahh…gods, if I bite you, I’m s-sorry, you’re just…” 

“You can do anything you want to me,” Shu groans, parting his legs to wrap them around Rei’s waist, then letting them fall back to the bed in an awkward tangle, far too preoccupied to even _grab_ , every clutching effort he makes going awry when his body gives up. It’s too hard to process, and he ruts up again and again like an animal in heat, just determined to cling to Rei with everything he is. As long as he can be a part of that warmth, life is worth living, every struggling, excruciating second of it. “I’m--yours--”

The urge to just spread those pretty legs further, or to flip Shu over, or to do any number of previously unmentionable things to him is so _strong_ that Rei can’t help himself, he can’t. 

Or he wouldn’t be able to, if he didn’t already feel Shu’s perfectly laid seal fray at the mere _thought_. 

Rei groans, Shu’s words echoing in his head— _you can do anything you want to me_ —just as he strikes. Too-sharp teeth sink into the soft flesh of Shu’s neck, and a long, shudder rakes through him with just the first drip of that sweet, heady blood over his tongue. The taste alone feels like coming, never mind that he already actually _is_ , spilling over his fingers with a hard, pulsing twitch that rips the breath from his lungs. Another swallow of Shu’s blood, and he hears the possessive, hungry growl escape from his throat, his teeth clamping down harder. _You’re mine, you’re mine._

Shu’s release joins Rei’s between them with a shuddering cry, and he goes rather limp, all of his awareness focused on Rei’s mouth set in his flesh, every slow pulse of his blood into Rei’s mouth, _into Rei_. None of this feels like before, when Rei had kissed him sweetly and slid a few fingers into him, taking him apart like a doll without pins. That had been enough to change his life before; this is something else. 

When he finally blinks, it feels as if time has passed. “Rei,” he breathes, one shaking hand coming up to pet through that silken hair splayed over his chest.

The touch brings him back, somewhat. Rei shivers again, his eyes lidded, hazy from the taste of Shu on his tongue as he eventually releases Shu’s throat and slumps down against him. “No one says my name like you do,” he sighs, licking his lips, the red stain of Shu’s blood far from fading. “You taste as good as you smell…ahh, this is no good, I’m already addicted…” 

“I’ve always been afraid to say your name,” Shu admits, petting his hands through Rei’s hair, shifting to tug a blanket over them both. “I was worried it would bring their hammer down on you somehow--like you would hear me if I said it, and they could find you. I’d do anything to keep you safe.”

“No one can hear us right now.” Rei settles down further, content to be petted. The intimacy of being sprawled against Shu, skin to skin, feels like a reward of the highest caliber after _so_ long, and his eyes flutter. “Thank the gods for your skill. The way my magic feels when I’m around you…I don’t think any other seal would or could hold.” 

Shu preens a bit at the praise, letting his legs arrange beneath Rei’s, shifting until they’re both truly comfortable. “Mm, yes, of course, my skill level is unbelievably high. I doubt even the Emperor and his winged abomination, the traitor, could sniff out even the slightest wisp of your presence, ha!”

“Mm, mm, your skills are truly a delight to behold.” It’s the truth, and there’s not an ounce of sarcasm in Rei’s voice. He hums, licking at the bite mark he left behind on Shu’s neck once more before tilting his head up to nuzzle his face into Shu’s hair. “We can stay here, safe and sound, for a time.” Acting before he sees how all of the little pieces fall into place has never been his forte, after all. “I don’t mind biding my time with you, either.”


	16. Chapter 16

Izumi’s memory, constantly playing over and over, _over and over_ through the span of the time spent in that cell, mimics nightmares more than anything. 

The price didn’t drop for another two days, or so he was told. That doesn’t make sense to him. Nothing does. Surely, he’s too filthy, too tired, too unresponsive for them to care at this point, but it doesn’t stop a cold bucket of water to be dumped over his head at any point to wake him or half-heartedly clean him, stirring him back to a vague sense of consciousness so that they can get any kind of a reaction out of him. 

_Maybe if I’ll die if I don’t eat._ It’s something these men consider, apparently, because he’s force-fed both water and gruel at one point, and vomits it later, when there’s a cock shoved so far down his throat that he gives up breathing. 

“He’s still alive? Good, his mouth’s still pretty. Drink up, kitty.”

It’s not the first time they’ve said that, nor is it the last. 

None of that matters compared to the constant, reverberating _pain._ It starts at his neck, travels all the way through his limbs, leaving them tingly and useless as he trembles, trying to shake it off. It still feels like he’s melting from the inside, like something is trying to grind every part of him to dust, and that agonizing, dissolving sensation won’t _stop,_ all courtesy of the collar on his neck, the magicked stone scraping across his raw skin. The scariest part is when Izumi can feel himself want to give up, and he does, he _does,_ he gives up and he’s fine with that, but his body won’t, jerking him back to wakefulness, to consciousness, to existence that’s pain and cruel hands and tastes and words and smells that make him want to give up all over again. 

His blood price is the highest price fetched yet.

Or so he’s told. He doesn’t remember it. He remembers Lord Karn. He remembers the other man with him—Lord Hennessy, they’d gone 50/50 on it—and Izumi remembers the unrelenting grasp on his hair before a knife flashes and it’s chopped short, dropping filthy, lank silver hair to the cell floor. “Your bastard has hair like yours,” Hennessy says, spitting out the words. “What I would do to rip it from her skull.” 

What follows still seems to dull in comparison to the pain that has plagued him for days, and to be honest, it’s a _relief._ The first stab to his neck makes him gasp wetly, the second to his lungs makes him taste blood, and every single stab of that knife afterwards feels almost…comforting. 

Karn, Hennessy, Blake, Plaskett, Rains, Wynne—and Duke Rodan himself. Those are the names that filter through his mind in a neat little list with each stab, one for each, a few extra (three) for every bastard child.

Ah, I really will die now. I’m so sorry, Leo, but I hope I don’t see you soon.

_Izumi’s eyes cloud over as they flutter shut, and finally, gratefully, the world stops hurting._

 

_~_

 

Mao is exhausted. 

Running himself ragged not only between the Academy but also, his Master, has left him functioning on perhaps three hours of sleep nightly, and that’s if he’s lucky. Today, he’s back in the capital, all but falling asleep on his horse when he arrives, with even the sense of unrest not enough to wake him fully. 

That is, until he moves to check on one of his charges. 

He yawns behind his hand, striding down the front hall of the wizarding housing unit granted to Makoto, now a research specialist within the capital. A nod to the guards, and he’s let inside. It’s a routine thing, for him to go about and check in with wizards newly assigned to their duties, and Makoto has always been a bit of a special case, considering he always genuinely seemed kind, and had such a mild blooming that the level of fear and disgust the Academy normally associated with wizards was…well…virtually nonexistent. 

Also, it’s time to check on him and make sure he’s focused and not doing anything _stupid_ , in light of recent events and unrest.

Mao knocks on the door as a formality, but then simply lets himself in with a master key. “Official business, Excellency,” he calls, stifling another yawn, and what greets him abruptly jerks him awake. Right there, literally on the floor of Makoto’s living quarters, is…is that a corpse? Are those…Makoto’s hands literally _on_ said corpse, slid underneath its shirt? Mao freezes, stares, and says, before he can filter himself, “I do _not_ have time for this today.” 

“I--wait, Mao, it’s not what it looks like!”

Makoto freezes too, hands under the ragged tatters still clinging to Izumi’s lifeless form, resting gently splayed on his chest. This...probably doesn’t look good, exactly, with his old friend’s body lying on his floor, and his hands _under his shirt,_ it must look like he’s some kind of necrophiliac pervert! “I, um, it...”

His voice fails. He just stares, gawking, unable to find the words.

Mao sighs. He just…sighs.

He shuts the door behind him, turning the lock. “It looks,” he slowly begins, “like you took your research assignment home with you. For some reason.”

Makoto swallows hard. He desperately wants to trust Mao--Mao is a nice person, and has always been a good watcher, and he has so few friends...but isn’t that what the Academy does on purpose, make him think that his watcher is his only friend? “Y-yes,” he stammers. “I did. I brought him...I brought it home. Just...had some curiosity. Something wasn’t lining up, you know? So, um, I’m...studying.”

“Sure.” 

Mao hesitates, then sighs again, shutting his eyes as he lifts a hand to rub at the bridge of his nose. “Right. Ahh, I didn’t need this today.”

And as he says that, he abruptly snaps a dangling cord off of his neck, shattering the stone attached to it onto the floor. It dissolves, filtering away to nothing, except for a couple of shards that Mao scoops off the floor and places onto a windowsill. “How aware of the current situation are you?” he asks, his voice low in spite of the silencer he placed upon the room. 

Makoto blinks slowly. “Eh?”

“The North. The Sena house debacle. Have you not been following the situation at all?” 

Makoto’s face slowly, steadily turns red. “I, um...ha, I wouldn’t know about any of that, right? B-because I’m supposed to not...I’m just, they gave me this body, I’m good at, um, gathering information, I don’t even know who he is, I...”

“Makoto.” Mao warily glances out the window, then to the door again, before he crouches down, staring him in the eye. “Enough. I told you, I don’t have time for it. I’m working both sides, so relax for a moment and stop lying to me.” 

Makoto gapes. He doesn’t know what to do, so his mind defaults to his original state, which is to be far too honest. “I know who he is,” he says in a rush, hands light on Izumi’s unmoving skin. “I’ve known him forever, Mao, he’s not dead. I don’t know how he’s not, but he’s not, I think he’s stuck? His soul--it’s trapped, somehow, I don’t know how to fix it, but I’m trying, and I have a friend who wants my help to get him either to the North or to his prince and I’m not sure what to do, I’m sorry, I should have reported it...”

“Don’t you dare report this.” Mao squints, scoots closer, and gingerly reaches out to lift the…not-corpse’s face a little. It’s creepy, because he _looks_ dead, and he automatically doesn’t want to touch—but the second he does, pushing lank hair away from his face, he jerks his hand away, recoiling in shock. “Holy shit. That’s really the Sena heir.” And here _he’d_ brought up the North and being on the edge of war because the last thing he needed was _another_ wizard being accused of crimes at this time—but this is _different._ He glances up, meeting Makoto’s eyes. “Who has been contacting you about him? How sure are you…is he really not dead?” 

“His cells aren’t decomposing at all,” Makoto says softly. He draws his hands out from under Izumi’s shirt. “He’s also not cold. I don’t doubt they didn’t notice in the Sandlands, because it’s so warm down there. My friend...” 

He rubs his face, trying to focus when Izumi is on the ground in front of him, looking like every bad thing in the world has happened to him. “When they first brought him in, his face was crushed,” he says softly. “Look, now you can see who he is. And the stab wounds are closed, I was checking. He’s not breathing, though, but...”

“That’s insane,” Mao mutters, staring down at Izumi in disbelief. He still doesn’t exactly want to _touch_ something that looks, for all intents and purposes, like a corpse. “Who are you working with?” he asks again. “Because my master…he wants this guy as well.” 

Makoto sucks in a breath. The worst that can happen is that he dies, and he’s already pretty much done enough to be worth a death sentence anyway. “His name is Subaru, of the Akehoshi lands,” he says quietly. “He’s the Captain of the Guard in High Harbor, guarding the ruling family.”

Mao gives up, and sits down on the ground. He shuts his eyes again, but it’s less weariness this time, and more relief. “Thank the gods,” he murmurs, rubbing at one of his temples. “Then we’re working with the same people. Ah, the last thing I needed was another conflict of interest in this mess…” 

He opens his eyes again, and claps his hands together. “Right. Fine. What do you need from me, then? He can’t be transported when he’s like this. Even if he isn’t dead, he’s still helpless, so you’re going to need to patch him up properly before we try to move him.”

“I’m n-not a healer?” Makoto stammers, feeling himself start to sweat. “There’s something interfering, it’s....I’d say it’s interfering with his natural healing process, that’s how it feels, but obviously he _is_ healing--and far more than natural--so what am I supposed to do?”

“He’s a half-breed of some kind, or that’s what the rumors are—my master hasn’t told me much, just that he wants him. That’s why he’s healing like this, I bet, but it’s still…” Mao warily reaches forward again, prodding at Izumi’s limp arm. “Strange. Maybe there’s something poisoning him, like a figurative arrowhead lodged in him somewhere, you know? I guess we should look…” 

He reaches for the strap of leather around Izumi’s neck first to pull it off, and he blinks at the weight of it when he unbuckles it. “Oh—shit.” Mao turns it over, eyebrows raised at the heavy, rough stone embedded within the leather, previously pressed to Izumi’s skin, leaving what looks like a burn in his flesh that has long been rubbed raw. “Look at this. It’s hidden well, but now that I’m touching it, the magic is really…dense. Don’t touch it, I don’t want you being hurt by it either.” 

But there _has_ always been the fact that Izumi’s father is unknown. Makoto had always assumed that the father was a commoner, the way most people have, but if he’s something else...

“Give me that,” he says softly, taking the leatherbound stone and grabbing it. The magic in it is powerful, but crude; he can see the thin line of power connecting the necklace to Izumi even now, sapping him, leeching him in a sick pulse just like a human heartbeat. 

“It’s powerful, but it’s not very well-made. It definitely wasn’t made by a wizard, not one with any juice. I think I can just...” He frowns, then concentrates, and the stone shatters. Bits of it fly into his skin, tiny lances of pain that make him shout, batting frantically at his arms and face. The heartbeat echoes around the room, then settles into Izumi, and finally, his slender chest rises.

“Ah, be _careful_ , I told you not to touch it,” Mao frets, but his gaze is split between Makoto and the fact that Izumi actually takes a breath, like some kind of fish that’s finally been thrown back into the water after an hour without. No matter how much time he spends around wizards, it’s still something entirely different with _half-breeds_ , or beasts in general, and Mao shivers, glancing away. “I’ll need to contact my master and let him know about this,” he quietly says. “If he really is a half-breed and healing on his own, then that’s taken care of, but…until I can figure how to transport him without being found, I’ll have to leave him in your care. I’ll deal with all the necessary precautions for your privacy, of course.” 

Makoto nods, hardly listening when he moves to Izumi’s side, taking one of his hands and holding it in both of his. It’s warmer than it had been before, he thinks, and he brushes the hair back from Izumi’s face, wishing he could regrow the cut ends. “Lord Izumi?” he whispers, squeezing the hand in his. “Can you hear me? It’s--it’s Makoto, remember me?”

Izumi stirs with a low, weak moan, his head lolling to the side, brow furrowed. 

“Let’s get him into bed—or maybe cleaned up first,” Mao worriedly murmurs. “First things first, though—Makoto, who else knows about this? Just Subaru? Or did you have other assistance in getting him here? You have to be careful, the North right now is on the verge of declaring war because of your friend here.” 

“Yes, we’ll get him up,” Makoto mutters, attempting to lift Izumi and groaning under his weight. He looks sideways at Makoto and says defensively, “Being a wizard means you don’t do a lot of lifting, you know? Help me, he’s waking up too fast to clean him up.”

“Why don’t you _ever_ pay attention to important questions I’m asking you?” Mao growls, even as he moves to lift Izumi up as if he weighs nothing. Compared to Ritsu, he might as well be a bag of bones. In his arms, Izumi doesn’t stir further, except for his head to listlessly flop backwards. “Up we go—get the door, I’ve got him. Ah, I’ll need to put blockers all over this place now,” he frets. “My silencers are only temporary.” 

“I don’t know anything about silencers or blockers,” Makoto says, chewing on his lower lip, clinging to Izumi’s hand again. _He’s alive,_ he thinks, relief clinging to every part of him. _He’s alive, he’s alive, he didn’t leave me..._

“If you teach me, I can do it, I think? Ah, I hope...”

“I’ll do it, you don’t need to worry about it.” Mao nudges the bedroom door open with his hip, and readjusts Izumi in his arms to pull the blankets off of Makoto’s bed before laying him down. “It’s better if it doesn’t have your signature, anyway—“

Izumi stirs again, his eyelids fluttering. When his eyes do open, he barely focuses on Mao for a second before starting hard, swinging a punch in his generalized direction.

“Ow, _ow!_ ” Mao jerks back with a bloody nose, his eyes watering. “Geez, that’s what I get for helping, huh?” 

“D-don’t touch me, get away from me!” Izumi’s voice is a hoarse rasp, his eyes wide and white-rimmed, his pupils strange, reptilian slits set within irises too-blue. 

“I’m not touching you, calm down—ah, Makoto, he’s all yours, I’m going to go set up those blockers,” Mao sniffs, wiping at his bleeding nose as he backtracks, his other hand up defensively. 

Makoto slams the door shut behind him, heart pounding as he backs up against the door. Maybe Izumi isn’t a half-breed after all--he looks different from ever before, maybe whoever had had him had _done_ something to him, forced him to change somehow? His stomach twists in fear, and the walls around him start trembling. He sucks in a deep breath, and the trembling stops--in the walls, though not in himself. “L-Lord Izumi,” he tries, even his toes trembling, “y-y-you’re safe, I promise, it’s--it’s Makoto, do you remember me?”

Izumi trembles, slinking back on the bed until his own back hits the wall. It takes a moment for his eyes to focus, to adjust to the room, and he sucks in a long, steadying breath, taking a long moment to adjust to the fact that his entire body isn’t just an agonizing hell of pain he can’t escape. 

“…Yuukun.” The strange light fades from his eyes, and Izumi shivers again, suddenly realizing how naked he is, how uncharacteristically _cold_ he feels, and he shakily, slowly draws his knees up to his chest. “I…h…how…” One of his hands flies up, touching his neck, where the raw skin is still healing, and he winces, cringing backwards. “When did you…where am I?” 

“Oh, thank the Emperor,” Makoto breathes, sliding down the door to kneel on the floor, trembling with relief. “You’re alive, I was so worried, I knew you couldn’t be dead but--what _was_ that, that was so scary!”

“What was _what?_ ” Izumi mutters, glancing around, still feeling dazed and light-headed. He still can’t stop shaking, and he grabs with trembling fingers for the blankets on Makoto’s bed, slowly dragging them over to curl up underneath them. “I’m dead, aren’t I? I feel dead. Good night.” 

“You’re not dead! I’m almost certain!” 

Makoto timidly moves forward, perching on the side of the bed, ginger and cautious. “You’ve been here for two weeks--er, not _here_ , but in transit, then here, I wasn’t supposed to bring you here, but...I just had a feeling you weren’t dead, so...I smuggled you out of the Academy.”

Izumi stares at him over his knees. “…Two weeks?” That’s _so_ much longer than makes sense. “But I died.” He’s pretty sure of that fact—or he was, until Makoto said that. He shivers again, flexing his toes, startled that it doesn’t feel like he’s being _stabbed_ when he does. “Or something like it.”

A quiet knock on the door makes Izumi’s head jerk up with a hiss, and Mao pokes his head in gingerly. “I’ve put up enough blockers to make it impossible for the Academy to sniff him out, unless they’re actually in here with him. Just be careful about what magic you throw around, if any, with him.” 

Makoto nods firmly, tucking his legs up under himself. “You were, ah, delivered. To the Academy. And I applied to be the head researcher, and I saw it was you...but then--then I saw you were healing, so I figured you must be alive _somehow_ , and then today, you finally looked all, um, healed up, and we found that thing around your neck, and then...well, then I broke it and you woke up.”

Izumi growls at the mention of the collar, a thoroughly hate-filled noise. “Fuck that thing,” he mutters, curling his arms back around his legs underneath the blanket. 

“Do you remember who was responsible?” Mao presses, folding his arms across his chest. “I need to report to—“

“Go away, I don’t want to talk to you.” 

Mao opens his mouth to argue, then shuts it again, heaving a weary sigh as he rakes a hand back through his hair. “All right,” he agrees, looking over to Makoto. Obviously, Izumi isn’t going to be helpful right now, especially not around him. He’ll just have to come back later. “I’ll be checking in periodically. Fortunately, I have an excuse to stay in the capital that’s unrelated to this, but…tread carefully, all right? You both need to stay safe while I figure out what to do.” 

The door clicks shut, and beyond it, Izumi can hear the sound of another door locking after Mao’s footsteps disappear. Izumi trembles anew, hunching down. “Is there…is there some way I could take a bath?” he asks, his voice small and quiet. “Otherwise, I’ll kill myself for real, thanks.” 

“Oh. Um, sure. There’s a basin, if you want to stay in the room, I have a ewer and a cloth, or, um, the bathing room has tubs, but the water is cold...” Makoto grimaces, fiddling with his blanket with his fingertips, feeling helpless but wanting so badly to help. “Nothing like back in the North.”

“Cold is fine.” _Maybe I can drown myself._ Izumi reaches up to push his hair out of his face, and his mouth twists when he finds it _so_ much shorter than he’s used to. “And a knife, maybe,” he mutters, briefly shutting his eyes in an attempt to not cry. This is fine. It doesn’t matter, this is _fine_. “So I can even this mess out.”

Makoto offers one of his Dawncloaks, soft red with orange wefts. “If you want to wear that, we’re only down a hallway. I can make an illusion, I’m good at not being seen. I, ah, I do it all the time, so I don’t think anyone will notice anything different.”

Izumi hesitates, then nods, slowly unfolding himself from the blankets and scooting to the edge of the bed. It still takes effort—his limbs don’t want to work as well as he remembers, courtesy of an underlying, aching weariness that makes them tremble unpredictably. Hopefully, that will go away soon enough, even if it’s incredibly annoying now. “I’m…sorry that you’re caught up in this now,” he murmurs, wrapping himself up with shaking fingers. “I’ll try to be out of your hair soon enough.” 

Makoto urges Izumi down the hall, steering him to the washroom, then filling one of the tubs with several pulls on the heavy steel pump. The little tub fills slowly, in fitful spurts, but it does eventually fill. The tub is more like a large, shallow barrel than any of the bathing pools from the North, and Makoto wipes his brow, resentful. “These are awful, but it’s a bath. Ah, do you want, I can help you in if...I mean, you’ve just been dead, so...”

_I’m not an invalid_ , Izumi wants to snarl, but even standing is enough to make his knees knock and wobble. “Just dump me in, then I can drown myself and die again,” he dully says instead, tentatively shedding the borrowed robe. Even if the bruises and cuts and stabs are gone, it still vaguely _feels_ like they’re there, and it’s impossible not to be self-conscious about it. 

Makoto hesitates, but manages it, getting an arm around Izumi’s waist, then hefting him up and in, though his arms tremble. “There we are, you’re--oh, that’s right, you’ve always been good with cold, haven’t you? Ah, Lord Izumi is still so impressive...”

The cold water is more of a relief than Izumi _ever_ thought it could be, and he sinks in all the way up to his chin without even a single second of hesitation. His eyes flutter before they shut, and he dunks his head under in one, swift slide.

Being cold and clean is _so_ much better than it should be. He doesn’t come up for several seconds, and when he does, he doesn’t bother blinking away the water from his eyes. “Nothing has ever felt better,” he exhales, wiping his hands down his face. “Ah, do you have a washrag or something? Sorry, I just can’t remember the last time I’ve had a bath.” 

“Hold on, let me find it...”

After a moment of searching, Makoto turns up a washrag and a sea sponge, handing them over along with a handful of soap flakes. “I can get your back, if you want...? Sorry, if I’m in the way, just tell me to go. I understand if you want to be alone.”

“You don’t need to leave.” Izumi, first and foremost, scrubs his face until it’s pink. It hurts, but that’s good, because it means he’s _clean._ “You’re not in the way,” he adds on his next breath. “I just—hold on, I need to be neurotic for a moment.” 

Izumi holds his breath as he slinks underneath the water again, scrubbing at his hair, soaking it thoroughly and cringing when he comes back up, watching the dirty water run from it. “This is the worst,” he groans, shivering, scrubbing at some of the more stubborn streaks of filth on his arms and chest. “I’ve never been this dirty in my life. Could you get my back?” 

“Of course, I’m here. I’ve--I’ve definitely got this.”

Makoto starts scrubbing, trying to be gentle. Izumi’s skin turns pink so easily, then immediately fades back to his normal, cool-toned skin. “You looked...pretty raw when you came in,” he says quietly. _I had nightmares for days._

“Yeah, I bet,” Izumi murmurs, trying not to flinch at the initial touch. _It’s Yuukun, he’s harmless, he’s fine, he’s good._ Paranoia and nerves makes him wonder if that’s true—how much can he really trust wizards still bound firmly to the Academy right now, after all?—but what else is he supposed to do _but_ hope that it’s fine? If Mao is in on this, that bodes…at least somewhat well. Even if Izumi doesn’t like him, Ritsu does, and Ritsu…the idea of him is a comforting presence that makes Izumi force himself to relax. “I got the shit beat out of me. Not fun, trust me.” He pushes his dripping bangs out of his face, sucking in a slow breath. “I wonder how long that went on…ah…” There are a dozen questions on his tongue, but he’s afraid to ask most of them. “I’m not sure how much information you’re privy to, but…do you know if the prince is alive?” 

“Ah, no one knows?” 

Makoto washes out his cloth, then starts washing Izumi’s back again, trying not to hurt him. “There’s sort of a lot going on right now, honestly. I’ll try to, hmm, sum up? I guess...you went missing, and the prince went missing, and everyone went mental looking for you--there was some huge explosion, and the wizards were all gone mad, and then your mother seceded and formed her own country, and now she’s marching on the Capital--”

“Wait, wait, what?” Izumi interrupts, twisting around to look at Makoto, his brow furrowed in disbelief. “Are you fucking with me? My mother _what_ now?” He has to cling to that line of thought instead of thinking about Leo, because if Leo is still missing—that doesn’t bode well, does it? The thought that he’s dead, after all that, makes despair sink deep into his stomach, leaving him sick and all the more exhausted. “By wizards…do you mean the ones with Sir Arashi’s army? Or just in general? How long ago _was_ all of this? I know you said I’ve been…in transit for two weeks, but…” 

“That’s a _lot_ of questions,” Makoto protests. “What do you want to know first?”

Izumi opens his mouth to answer that, then sighs, shaking his head, slinking down further into the water. “Forget it,” he mumbles, turning to drape himself over the side of the tub. “I don’t care, I want to go to bed.” Not knowing about Leo won’t _stop_ bothering him, and he sniffs, the stinging prick of tears to his eyes something he can’t be bothered to stop right now. _I don’t want to be alive if he’s dead._ “Can you help me up? My legs still don’t want to work correctly.” 

Makoto gets his arm around Izumi again, ignoring the way it makes his whole body wet, dragging him out of the tub. Then he grabs his Dawncloak, tugging it around him again, then turns around. “Do you want to ride on my back?” he suggests. “Then we can figure out what to do next. What do you want to do, Lord Izumi? Go to the North and calm your mother down? They say she’s roused an army of ice drakes, isn’t that terrifying?”

“No. She’s lying.” Izumi lurches forward, simply latching himself to Makoto’s arm, chin hooked over his shoulder. Makoto is soft, and warm, and his touch isn’t at all terrible, and that makes him shiver anew, clinging harder to him. “I don’t want to do anything. I just want to go to sleep.” 

Makoto swallows. “Yeah, okay. Ah, there’s another option, if you want, but I’ll...ahh, I should wait until you wake up, I’ll tell you about the plan then, all right?”

“Maybe I don’t want to wake up. Carry me back, princess style.” 

“Um, okay!”

Makoto gets an arm under Izumi’s legs, lifts him for a whole two seconds, and then falls to his knees as his legs buckle. “Sorry, Lord Izumi! Ah, I’m just not really that strong, physically speaking...”

“Why even offer in the first place, then?” Izumi mutters, even as he flops onto the floor, arms firmly around Makoto’s neck. “It’s just Izumi, I’m not a lord. Help me back up, then, I’m going to bed whether you can carry me or not.” 

Makoto struggles to his feet, managing a sort of shuffling drag, getting Izumi a step closer to his bed every time. “Um, you’ve always been my lord, though. And you always will be, right? Whether you inherit or not...”

Izumi half-heartedly shoves a hand over Makoto’s mouth. “ _Just_ Izumi,” he tiredly sighs. “Got it? It’s so annoying when you’re like that, Yuukun, don’t talk about me inheriting anything right now.” 

When he finally ends up dumped into bed, it’s a relief, and he grabs for Makoto’s arm, dragging him partially onto the bed as well. “I’m cold.” Not the pleasant kind of cold—the kind of cold that comes from utter exhaustion, which apparently, just getting up and walking to take a bath causes now. “Come here.” 

“I--oh!”

Makoto resists initially out of inertia, more than anything else, and the conviction that something is going to go horribly wrong if he allows this--

But Izumi had been dead. Seeing him on that cold table had almost stopped Makoto’s heart. So he lets Izumi pull him close, and even timidly extends his own arms, pulling him close. “I don’t think I’m that warm, but you can take all of mine, if you can.”

Izumi immediately buries himself into Makoto’s hold. It’s impossible not to when the touch is offered, warm in spite of Makoto’s words saying that he’s otherwise, careful and timid and gentle. “Don’t worry,” he breathes, stuffing his face into Makoto’s neck. “I won’t do anything. I know the rules. I just want you to hold me for a little while, you feel good.” 

Makoto exhales deeply, and tucks Izumi’s head under his chin. “I just want you to feel better,” he says earnestly, tightening his arms. “Ah...this kind of feels like it used to, you know? When the bunch of us got lost on the trails, and you rode out and found us, but it was too late to go back? I still...remember, you taking care of me.”

“You were pretty weak then, too,” comes Izumi’s muffled response. His arms slowly curl around Makoto, clinging to him. The idea of pulling away right now hurts him, so hopefully Makoto won’t mind staying like this for awhile. “You weren’t good with the cold, some Northerner you were.” He exhales a soft, wet breath. “I missed you, when they took you away.” 

“I...” Makoto buries his face in Izumi’s soft hair. It’s too short, and he hates that. It’s always been so long and gorgeous, and he’s heard them whisper, in the North, that it’s driven men mad. “They beat me, for talking about you too much. So I stopped. But I’ve had dreams, lots of them, that we’re still back home. I guess...I guess you were always like home for me, even more than my mother.”

At that, Izumi laughs, soft and hoarse. “That’s probably ‘cause your mother was a bitch,” he mutters unrepentantly, his fingers curling against Makoto’s back. “Sorry that they punished you because of me. I…heh. In the capital, I never got to brag about how my first kiss was from a cute boy, because they frown on that, you know.”

Makoto blushes fiercely. “You’d think...that after all we’ve been through, I’d forget, or think of something more important, but I still think about it all the time. Heh, no wonder, I think about it every time someone mentions kisses, it’s my only one so far.”

“That’s a crying shame,” Izumi sighs, shutting his eyes as he noses against Makoto’s neck in an attempt to plaster himself closer. His limbs just periodically want to shake, achy and overly exhausted as his body still tries to process fixing every single little thing wrong with him. “I dunno. I think it’s important. I didn’t forget it, either.” 

“I figured you did. They told me you would. That’s something they do, Mao told me. They tell you that everyone’s forgotten you, so you’re only loyal to them.” Makoto sucks in a shuddering breath, limbs trembling. “The Academy is...really brutal, actually. Oh, I shouldn’t be saying this, but Mao says they can’t hear me right now, so...and talking to you always....made me feel better.”

“You can say whatever you want. I’m not going to repeat any of it.” _Not that I have anyone to repeat it to—probably._ The thought pricks sharp tears into his eyes, and Izumi swallows, his nails digging briefly into Makoto’s back before releasing again. “I didn’t forget you. I thought about you all the time.” 

Makoto’s heart flutters, and he squeezes his eyes closed, hands fisting in the blankets behind Izumi’s back. “I mean, they have to be harsh, because otherwise our magic might go wild, you know? So they have to be careful. One rogue wizard can do awful things, so we’re very...trained.” A shiver goes up his spine, thinking of the long days alone, the beatings, the starvings, the switchings, the lectures that had been worst of all. “They test you all the time. I’m not even sure that this isn’t a test, heh. They’d look... _really_ real. Like, if there was a pretty serving girl--I was thirteen, and she’d always smile at me, and I blushed, and she asked if she could come back to my room, and I said yes...”

“Yeah, like a normal kid,” Izumi mutters crossly, squeezing his eyes shut in irritation. “I think that’s bullshit, sorry. I…I know rogue wizards.” He can say it when no one’s listening, who cares. It’s not like it matters if they come and kill him for it, anyway. “And trust me, they have sex like normal humans and nothing bad happens. The Academy is just needlessly tormenting you, it’s terrible.” 

“Eh? It...it can’t be for no reason,” Makoto mutters, frowning to himself. “I mean, they might not be right all the time, but they’ve got to be right _sometimes_ , otherwise why would they do it?”

“Because they’re trying to control you.” Izumi shakes his head against Makoto’s chest. “Obviously. If you’ve got a lover, then they have less control over you. That’s how it is.” 

“Oh.” Makoto thinks about that for a moment, then defiantly throws a leg over Izumi’s body, pulling him closer. “Well, just so you know, I’ve been sort of...in contact with some r-rebels. I know, it doesn’t sound like me, you probably don’t believe me, but it’s true.”

Izumi blinks against Makoto’s chest, startled by the sudden, additional closeness—but he doesn’t flinch away. Makoto is Makoto, and that means warm and careful, and that makes him relax with a slow, trembling little sigh. “Who?” he quietly asks, not doubting Makoto. Instead, his fingers curl against Makoto’s back again, slowly fisting into his clothing. 

“A friend. He’s the captain of the guard at the royal residence of High Harbor. And he’s in contact with some people that really know what they’re doing, seriously! Like...” Makoto lowers his voice, then lets his eyes flick around, and whispers, “The Demon King.”

That name again. Izumi’s eyes lid as he heaves another sigh. “That’s promising,” he says with a soft laugh, nosing against Makoto’s neck. “Maybe he’ll do something, hmm? Before all of this happened…the prince and I were talking about how to influence the Academy. I hate how they treat wizards, and he…he does, too.” 

“You cared about me that much?” Makoto’s voice is low, bewildered, but warm. “Heh, I really didn’t think I was on your mind at all, all those years.” _Not like you were on mine._

“I mean…mm. Yeah, I was worried about you, and about what was happening to you, but…to be perfectly honest, for awhile, I thought I was a wizard, too, you know.” Izumi’s expression shifts wry. “So I guess my worries were partly selfish. I didn’t want to be sent away. I didn’t want to lose a chance to be a knight. That’s moot point now, of course.” 

“They talk about you,” Makoto says, very quietly. “They said you don’t want to be a knight. That plenty of people have offered you the chance and you won’t take it.”

_Plenty of people._ Bits and pieces of that list filter through Izumi’s mind, and his jaw tightens, as does his hold on Makoto. “I refuse to swear to anyone that isn’t the prince, and I can’t do that until he’s king. That’s why.” 

“Oh.” 

That makes more sense than Makoto wants it to, and his blood pulses cold. “When they sent me the...you...the body...they said it was the body of a traitor. When I saw that it was you, I just thought they got it wrong, because your face was...”

“Yeah. Like I said, they beat the shit out of me.” Izumi’s voice is flat, a little cold. “They can say I’m a traitor all they want, but I’m not. I’d follow the prince to the grave.” 

“...In the Academy,” Makoto says carefully, “they teach us that swearing to obey anyone other than the King is treason.”

“The prince’ll be king one day. It’s fucking semantics if you ask me. Can we…not talk about this right now?” His head throbs. “I didn’t do anything wrong, wanting to serve him.” 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry, Lord Izumi! I just, ah, wanted to know how they could make such a stupid mistake, you know? Um, are you warmer now?”

“Just Izumi, for the last time.” Izumi huddles against Makoto’s chest. “No, I’m not warmer. Keep holding me. What other shit did they say about me?” 

“That’s it, all that happened! They just dumped you on my table and said I should take some time to learn about destroying all magical traces on a traitor’s body.” Makoto shivers. “I thought it was a test, when I found out it was you. But...I couldn’t ignore it, even if it was a test. So I smuggled you out and into my room.”

“…You’re an idiot.” 

“...I know.” Makoto shrugs. “But what else could I have done? I couldn’t poke and prod at you like that, I couldn’t. I thought I could at least get you home to your mother. But then you started healing...”

“Mm. Yeah. My body does that.” The words are wry, more than a little tired. “A pain in the ass if you ask me. Ah…I wanted to die so badly. I should have, seriously.” Izumi shivers, rubbing his face into Makoto’s chest. “That fucking collar…that thing was the worst. I’ve never felt pain like that.” 

“That was nasty,” Makoto agrees with a shudder. “They shouldn’t even make things like that--if it was a wizard that made it, it was a bad one, or one that didn’t really want it to succeed. More likely it was done by someone out-realm. I heard the Inglings have their own kind of wizard, but they’re too rare to go to war.”

“It felt like I was going to burn alive from the inside.” Izumi squeezes Makoto tighter, his eyes unfocusing as he talks. “It was so bad I couldn’t really even move most of the time, which made it so much worse, you know? It’s one thing to be able to fight back, even if you lose, but when you’re just kind of stuck in your own head…” 

He trails off with a shudder, and his nails bite into Makoto’s back. “I don’t know why nobles would have something Ingling-made. I don’t want to think about it too much. Ahh, I don’t even know how they found out I was a half-blood, I haven’t even known for that long…” 

“So...it’s true.” Makoto shakes his head, wondering. “I thought your father was a commoner, we all did. What....what was he? Do you know him?”

“No. I’ve never met him.” Izumi’s head shakes slowly against Makoto’s chest. “A friend of mine told me he was an ice drake.” 

“Oh, gods and powers and the Emperor’s holy boots,” Makoto breathes, horrified. “Does that--does that mean your mother is telling the truth, and she really is leading an army of them to get your bones recovered?”

“If she is, it’s news to me that she knows them personally,” Izumi groans. “Don’t tense up, I hate that, keep cuddling me. I can’t say I’m entirely surprised she jumped to threats like that—she’s always had a short temper—but I…it’s probably an empty threat, about the ice drakes. Probably.” 

“They say she’s on the march.” Makoto tries to make his body soft and warm and pliable, though the idea of Izumi’s mother alone is enough to make him pale on most days. “But...if we’re going to go to High Harbor, we’re not going to cross her path. Don’t you want to let her know you’re okay?”

“No. I want her to rip the capital apart.” 

“Oh.” Makoto’s stomach flops, but he tries hard not to tense up. “What if she gets hurt? Or the others in the North? You’re the heir, still. We believe in you.”

Izumi says nothing for a long moment, and then: “I don’t want to think about it right now.” The words come out far more tired than he wants, and he shuts his eyes. “I’ve been a pretty shitty heir,” he mutters. “I don’t want it anymore. If the prince is dead, then I don’t want to be a knight, either. It doesn’t matter.” 

“It matters to me.”

Makoto flushes, and he tightens his arms, embarrassed. “N-not that what I think should matter, sorry, I’m not--I’m not even technically a Northerner anymore, they took my heritage and everything, but...we remember. I remember. Knowing you were going to lead us one day--they all used to talk about it, especially in the winter--the fine strong young lord, out in the snow looking for lost kittens, like we’d all be safe one day as long as you were still alive.”

“That’s a load of shit.” Makoto’s words drag him abruptly back to the panic he’d felt in that alleyway—his inability to act fast enough, his _stupidity_ , his arrogance in thinking he was good enough no matter what—and all Izumi can see for a moment is the knife against Leo’s throat, the slice of it into his flesh, the gushing red blood—“I’m not capable of saving anyone,” he whispers, his hands trembling against Makoto’s back. “They killed Leo right in front of me and I couldn’t do anything. I shouldn’t be a knight, I shouldn’t be anyone’s heir. I should be dead.” 

“S-sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything--I knew I couldn’t help, I’m an idiot, I’m sorry, please don’t be mad,” Makoto pleads, backtracking immediately, feeling like he’s ruined everything again. “I just meant that I’m glad you’re not dead, is all. My friend, you’ll like him, he has a way of putting everything into perspective. He told me I wasn’t born to be a slave, you know?”

“I’m not mad at you, stop apologizing.” _I wish I was dead, it doesn’t matter what you think about it._ There’s no point in saying it out loud again, not when he already feels shitty enough. “Your friend’s right. But I don’t want to meet him, just let me live here in your bed.” 

There’s a burning tension in Makoto that makes him want to encourage Izumi to get up and fight, to stop giving up, to head for the Capital with his sword shining in the morning light, armed with justice and the truth on his side.

But he doesn’t have ay of the words that would let him do that. He’s never been able to encourage anyone to do anything, and this is a _big_ thing. So instead, he just curls up, mutters, “I can only sleep until dawn,” and closes his eyes.

“That’s fine.” Izumi’s eyes slide shut, and his fingers splay against Makoto’s back, intent on keeping him close. _As long as you’re staying here with me._ “Thank you,” he quietly adds, and slowly lets himself drift into the first _real_ sleep he’s had in what must be weeks. 


	17. Chapter 17

The King’s first official statement in weeks is not exactly what most people anticipate. Rather than call out the army marching South towards the Capital, rather than decry the supposed treason of his son and his friends, his announcement backs off, weak and ineffective. Officially, the king is horrified, both at the death of the Sena heir and the disappearance of his own son. _“Let us come together and defeat their killers together,”_ his statement declares, pointing the finger directly at the Demon King of the Shadowlands. _“This dangerous menace has raised his head again, and we must defeat him as soon as possible, along with the rogue factions he has bewitched. All those ensnared by his lies will be given pardons when they return to their senses.”_

Makoto stares at the proclamation, then tucks it hurriedly into his pocket when he hears Izumi returning from the washroom. There have been... _many_ baths, over the past several days. It’s hard not to feel, with an odd warming sensation that he’s not sure is good or bad, like he’s acquired a live-in lover, without the sex. “The mail didn’t come,” he lies, nervous and difficult to believe.

Izumi stares at him, the door clicking shut behind him. No matter how many times he scrubs himself until his skin is nearly raw, he doesn’t entirely feel clean—and watching Makoto lie to his face makes it even more obvious as to _why._

“What happened?” The question is a quiet one. It’s not necessarily an accusation, but Izumi has learned that Makoto is a worse liar than even he, and he simply doesn’t have time for it, besides. He settles down onto the bed, wrapping Makoto’s permanently borrowed Dawncloak around himself more tightly. His hair—trimmed properly with a knife now, falling in neatly mussed, even curls about his face instead of the terrible, uneven chop of before—drips cold water slowly. “Just tell me.” 

Makoto grimaces, then passes over the missive. “I just couldn’t figure out how to tell you,” he admits. “Do you think it’s the truth? I mean, do you think the king believes it’s the truth? He might, if he’s being told false information.”

Izumi takes it, reads it, and feels that cold, tired dread he’s been warding off sink deep into his belly.

He swallows and crumples it up, hands shaking. “It doesn’t matter if he thinks it’s the truth or not,” he softly says. “If he’s declaring the prince dead, then he’s done with him either way. He’s giving in to the fact his only real heir now is his wife’s disgusting brother.” 

“What should we do?” The words are pitiful, not enough, kind of stupid, Makoto knows, but Izumi has always been smarter, cooler, better at just about everything, and quicker-thinking than him, has always known what to do in hard times.

Izumi shrugs before he can stop himself. “I’d say get the hell out of the capital, but…I’ve been informed wizards aren’t so great at running away,” he wearily says. “So I don’t know. I don’t know how long I can even keep staying here until you start being questioned about where the hell my dead body is. I…I haven’t really thought of what to do about any of this, I’ll be honest.” 

“Damn,” Makoto says softly, and flops onto the bed, laying his head on Izumi’s shoulder. “I was hoping you had a plan. I’ve been telling my superiors that I’m still working on the corpse, but they’re going to figure it out soon. I did send a letter to my friend Subaru, so hopefully he’ll get back to me soon.”

“I haven’t had a plan since…since the prince was murdered.” That missive could easily just be misinformation, but it _feels_ so much more final, seeing it in writing like that, hearing that the king believes it, too. Izumi swallows, listing to the side, until he can grab for Makoto properly. “If he really is dead,” he quietly says, “I’m not interested in whatever war the Demon King is trying to fight. I just don’t care. We can just run away.” 

“Or,” Makoto says, voice shaking a little at the sheer audacity of what he’s about to say, “we can...not run away. We could go up to the North, with your mother. But we don’t have to calm her down.” He swallows hard. “We could join her. And really march on the Capital. You’d be a better king.”

If Izumi really is a test, he’s dead.

At that, Izumi laughs, but it’s less amused, more startled that words like that came from _Makoto’s_ mouth. “That’s something you’ve thought about for awhile, huh,” he murmurs, leaning back to peer at him, head tilting. “Literally anyone would be a better king than this fuckwit. That doesn’t mean it should be me.” 

“But you’re a great man.” Makoto fiddles with the edges of the blanket, face flushed in embarrassment. “Ah...you probably don’t want to hear that from someone weak and stupid like me. But I’ve always...you’re easy to look up to. You seem like a great leader to me.”

“I don’t think you’re weak and stupid.” Izumi reaches out to gently swat at the side of Makoto’s head. “Don’t say things like that about yourself. I’m just…heh. Look at me, I’m a mess. How great can I really be, hmm? Are you sure you don’t just think I’m pretty?” 

“I--no, I don’t--I definitely don’t just think you’re pretty, of course you are, but that’s not--”

Makoto feels the redness increase, and he jumps up from the bed, rubbing the back of his head. “Ahhh, I’m an idiot, I should go--”

“No, Yuukun—come back, there’s blockers still everywhere, remember? No one can hear you,” Izumi exasperatedly points out, grabbing Makoto’s hand to try and pull him back down next to him. He doesn’t pull too hard—wizards are still delicate, flighty things, he’s learned that well—but the intention is still there. “I’m teasing you. Relax. I, ah, didn’t expect a suggestion like that from you. I’ve never…I never thought about becoming king, ever.”

“I don’t care if anyone else hears me,” Makoto mutters, face turned away in flaming embarrassment. “I didn’t want _you_ to hear me. I...you’re a very special person, I’m not really good at anything and I’m not brave or strong or interesting or talented like you, I should just get back to my studies instead of bothering you.”

“ _Bothering_ me?” Izumi blinks at him, his brow furrowing. “First of all, you’re not bothering me. Second of all, Yuukun…you’re a wizard chosen to work in the capital, that’s pretty damn special.” He hesitates, then reaches up, carefully pushing Makoto’s hair out of his face. “I’m fairly certain I’m the one bothering you and ruining your life, considering I’m the one hiding out in your home and constantly stealing your bed and clothes.” 

“But I like you doing that.” Makoto tries to look away, wishing there were a way to hide his face properly when Izumi is so close to him, mortified at how close they are. “You’re the most interesting thing that’s ever happened to me. I...ah, you’re really close to me, your face...” _Your mouth_ , more like, but he isn’t sure how to really say that.

“Well, I don’t know what you think constitutes as ‘bothering’ me, but if it’s just you talking to me or being around me, then it’s a given I like that, too,” Izumi grumbles, his lower lip jutting in a pout as he tugs on a strand of Makoto’s hair. “What about my face? Listen, Yuukun, if there’s one thing that _does_ bother me, it’s you still trying to lie or avoid saying things outright. Just…don’t, okay? You’re…” _The only thing I’ve got left, basically._

Makoto opens his mouth, but the words won’t come. Izumi is just too _much_ , too large a presence in his life, too much dominating his thoughts, and before he can think of whether he’s doing anything right or wrong, he leans forward, pressing a kiss to Izumi’s mouth on a whim, then pulling back with dread pooling in his stomach. “I...oh, god, I’m sorry, you can’t have wanted that--”

_Oh._ Izumi blinks again, but otherwise goes still. _Fair enough_ , his mind points out. Maybe if he hadn’t been so focused on…anything else, he would have noticed Makoto’s interest, clear as day. _But he’s a wizard,_ a little warning bell rings, and then he has to laugh at himself. Who fucking cares, honestly? What’s one _more_ crime he can be accused of—and can a dead man even be accused of anything? 

“Come here.” Izumi finally moves and grabs at Makoto’s hands, pulling him forward. Makoto is so nervous, so terrified of rejection that…he’s harmless, right? It makes his own niggling uncertainty (a new, unpleasant emotion when he’s kissed, for sure) waver. “You can do that again.” 

“You’re...you’re very handsome, Lord Izumi,” Makoto says quietly, his voice shaky and uncertain. He hugs himself, flushed and awkward, but shifting slightly closer. “I just d-doubled my lifetime number of kisses.”

“Not good enough. Let’s triple them.” Izumi squeezes Makoto’s hands before releasing them and crawling over, gently catching his face in his hands. “ _Just_ Izumi, I’m telling you,” he softly scolds, his heart starting to thud out of his chest. _You’re going to ruin everything for him, too!_ his mind screams, and Izumi’s hands tremble. “Sorry,” he whispers. “You don’t have to, I just…” 

Makoto leans in, cutting Izumi off with another chaste kiss, all he knows about kissing, a brief press of lips to lips. “Is--is that all right?” he asks, voice hushed, even the tips of his ears flushing.

Izumi’s fingers slide back through Makoto’s hair, firmly tugging him forward before he second guesses this entire thing once more. This time, he kisses Makoto _properly_ , lips parting, teeth gently catching at Makoto’s lower lip, tongue running over the swell of it before he draws back, shivering. “That’s properly tripled,” he murmurs, eyes lidded. “Just part your lips a little, I’ll show you how to really kiss.” 

“I definitely should not be doing this,” Makoto whispers, still terrified that at any moment, the hunters and sniffers could burst in through the door--but Mao had said he was hidden, hadn’t he? Isn’t it all right, aren’t they already traitors? It all makes his head hurt, so he squeezes his eyes shut, then opens his mouth, leaning in.

Izumi catches that mouth again with his own, a little, careful swipe of his tongue following when his own lips part. This is a _relief_ , even if it’s stupid to even _think_ of doing this—Makoto isn’t demanding anything of him, he’s just soft and nervous and his mouth is comfortingly warm, and Izumi groans in the back of his throat, scooting forward until he’s nearly climbing into Makoto’s lap when he coaxes Makoto into kissing him back, sucking on his tongue.

Warmth spreads through Makoto at an alarming rate. He shifts forwards, wincing when he feels himself get hard, then immediately fill out far too much space in his underwear, pressed against the hard wooden insert as he leans forward again, letting his hands come up to touch Izumi’s face, that perfect pale, smooth skin that haunts his dreams.

Izumi sighs, his eyes fluttering as he leans into the touch, gently nipping at Makoto’s lower lip again. “Yuukun,” he murmurs, his fingers sliding down from Makoto’s hair, slowly curling against his shoulders.

“Exactly how good do you think my blockers _are?”_

Izumi jerks back with a hiss, his eyes narrowed at Mao, who stands in the doorway. Mao scowls, slamming it shut behind him. “Makoto, _honestly._ You’re lucky I was in the area, or you could have gotten yourself into some serious trouble.”

“Fuck off,” Izumi bites out, his arms firmly thrown around Makoto’s neck to remain fastened to him. 

Makoto tries to duck away, but freezes, his worst fears coming true as Mao catches him in the act of everything he’s not supposed to do. “I-I-I’m so sorry,” he stammers, unable to meet Mao’s eyes, taking a deep breath to try and calm his physical reactions. It’s still hard to believe that Mao isn’t going to tell on him. “P-please don’t send me for re-education, I’m sorry--”

“I’m not sending you anywhere, calm down.” 

“If you try,” Izumi lowly says, tightening his hold on Makoto, “I’ll kill you.”

Mao wipes a hand down his face, an exasperated sigh escaping his lips. “Honestly, I’m not _surprised_ , but that doesn’t make this any less troublesome. You’re both lucky that the entire Academy is preoccupied with far more important things right now—and _again_ , that I was _here._ Ahh, I knew this was going to happen…” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Izumi demands, visibly bristling even more. “Get out.” 

Makoto frowns, confused. “I’m not really sure,” he confesses. “At the Academy, they said that nothing could hide your misbehavior from a sniffer, but...I mean, there were always rumors that it was a lie.”

“The only reason no one’s coming to drag you back to the Academy right now is because _I’m_ here,” Mao reminds him, and he glances around the room, sighs, and goes about the process of refreshing those damned blockers as much as possible. “What are you planning, Sena?”

“I’m not planning anything.”

“Look, I know you don’t care for me, but I’m on your side. It’s in your best interest to tell me so I can—“

“I’m not planning anything, for the last time!” 

Izumi’s voice cracks, verging on hysterical as he abruptly untangles himself from Makoto and dives to the other side of the bed, wrapped up tightly in Makoto’s cloak. “I don’t know why you all think I’m planning something, why you think I want anything to do with _any_ of this, why you t-think I can actually _do_ anything! I don’t care, I _don’t_ , I just want you to l-leave me alone!” 

Mao opens his mouth to reply to that, then shuts it again, shutting his eyes briefly. Right. So, half-bloods, as he’s found on several occasions, are just as volatile as wizards on any given day. “Sure. Okay.” He rubs at the bridge of his nose. “I’m sure you received the king’s latest missive, then. Both you and the prince are officially—“

“Dead.” Izumi finishes the sentence flatly. “Good.” 

Mao glances to Makoto instead, his stare weary. “Have you heard from Akehoshi?” 

“Not yet.” Makoto stares after Izumi, heart sinking, stomach twisting as he sees him implode on himself. Izumi is so strong, so cool--how awful must that beating have been, to change him into someone like this? “He usually sends messages around this time of day, though. Ah, Lord Izumi, if I can get you anything--”

A head pops up in the window of Makoto’s room, an oddly uniform silhouette until the helmet comes off, revealing messy, wild orange curls that have been survived being cropped close into an enlisted military haircut time and time again, only to come back more wild. “Ukki! Hi! Ooh, you have friends, nice!”

Izumi’s teeth bare in a snarl, and he yanks the cloak up and over his head. 

Mao frowns. So much for subtlety, apparently—but he’s learned that most people can’t even come close to grasping that concept. “Don’t just stay out there, come inside,” he scolds. “You’ll draw too much attention here, and we’ve already had too many close calls.” 

Subaru shimmies inside, landing in an easy flip, cheerfully oblivious to the mood in the room. “Hi!” he declares again, arms akimbo. “Ready to go?”

“Ehh?” Makoto stands, incredibly confused. “Go? Me? Where? Why?”

“Oh! Go to High Harbor, of course.” Subaru beams. “To meet the Demon King! And the _other guy_.” Subaru grins even wider, nodding at Makoto and Izumi and Mao in turn. “We can all come, it’ll be fun!”

“We aren’t just taking off out of the blue,” Mao firmly says, folding his arms across his chest. “I haven’t heard word from my master yet. Do you know how difficult it is to conceal a wizard while traveling, also? Ahh, what am I saying, of course you don’t know…” 

“I don’t care about the Demon King.” Izumi burrows down further into Makoto’s cloak. “Good night.”

“Don’t go to sleep! Ugh, you’re all giving me a headache.” 

“Lord Subaru,” Makoto says, hurrying over, “I thought you were going to come here to give us a message about what to do. Ah, I’m not sure your master knows the situation...I’m going to write him a letter real quick, please take it to him?”

Subaru’s face falls. “I’m supposed to bring you. Okaaaay, he doesn’t really care if I bring you, but it’s the best idea, for sure, and he listens to my ideas! Monkey, you have anything to say to him?”

“Don’t call me that.” Mao hesitates, sparing a wary glance towards Makoto before he sighs, shrugging. “I’m waiting for a message from him myself. You _know_ I’m bound to the Academy’s rules as much as I am him, or everything is going to completely fall apart. That being said…” 

_This can’t continue._ It’s only a matter of time before Makoto’s supervisors realize that the corpse he was supposed to poke and prod at is simply _gone_ , and with such a high profile associated with it, it’s going to happen sooner, rather than later. The task of constantly putting blockers on this place is also taking a toll on him, and after what he’s seen today, Mao isn’t sure how effective that’s going to be for much longer. “Come for the two of them tonight. If you’re going to be traveling with a wizard, he has to be properly hidden, and I don’t have the ability to do that myself. I have to bring someone who can before you leave.” 

“And you, right?” Subaru tugs on Mao’s sleeve, hope in his eyes. “You’re coming too, right? The day is coming that you don’t have to hide and pretend anymore, you can be yourself and not have to play by their rules!”

Makoto frowns, looking back at Mao. He’d never really thought of Mao as hiding--he always just seems annoyed, not like he’s hiding much of himself. _I must be so annoying to him,_ he thinks sadly. _He’s trying so hard to bring about his revolution, and I just care about myself...I really am weak._

“I’ll come when I can,” Mao gently says, patting Subaru’s hand. “If I leave too soon—that could be an irreparable mistake. I can’t risk that for everyone, you know? So let me contact my friend and I’ll make sure you all get away safely.” 

“Yuukun.” Izumi shifts underneath the cloak, reaching out one grasping, pale hand. “Come over here and cuddle me or I’ll be mad.” 

“If they stay here another day, the Academy is going to come down upon us immediately,” Mao lowly mutters. “Wizards and half-bloods aren’t a good mix, are you sure you’ll be okay traveling with them?” 

“Sure! I’ve got a sword,” Subaru assures him, patting Mao on the head in turn. “And the Demon King was nice enough to give me a huge pouch of shiny coins! If anyone comes at us, I’ll throw one of them _really_ high, so they’ll be distracted while we get away.”

Makoto edges to the side, getting his arms around Izumi, feeling the warmth start to leech from his bones in a newly-familiar sensation.

Mao exhales a strangled, stressed noise, and wipes his hands down his face. “Fine,” he says anyway, shaking his head as he steps back. “If my master thinks you’re capable, then I don’t have anything to say.” 

Izumi relaxes bonelessly, curling up into Makoto’s hold, and Mao spares that one last glance before deciding to just…wash his hands of it for now. What else can he do? At least they’ll be on the road soon enough, and if he can put the right precautions into place, that will be _much_ safer than being here. “I’ll be back tonight,” he says, unlocking the door. “ _Behave_ until then.” 

And with that, he pulls his cloak up over his head and leaves, hanging a last ward onto the door before shutting it firmly behind himself.

 

~

 

Ritsu has many patrons, but the woman he currently has the favor of within the capital itself is older. She’s a sweet noblewoman, a widower, but she has a tendency of being too touchy, and Mao experiences this first hand when he inquires on Ritsu’s location, and ends up being pointed to a small, poorly known pub on the corner of town—but not without having his rear pinched and squeezed. _Honestly._

The pub is more or less empty except for Ritsu, drinking in late afternoon. Mao scowls, staring at him, watching him slump over the table, moping and sniffling around his ale. “If you’re going to be like this,” he flatly ‘greets’, “at least do it in private.” 

Ritsu mumbles something unintelligible, tears dripping from his nose. He hardly looks up, even though the sight of Mao is a reassuring, friendly sight. “Whassa point?” he says with a sniff, pouring another gulp of ale into his mouth. He doesn’t feel it anymore, like he hasn’t felt his teeth or toes for hours. “You shoul’ go. You’ll just...You’ll die too. Ev’ryone...I know.”

“You’re making a fool out of yourself,” Mao exasperatedly says, tossing down a few coins onto the table as he grabs Ritsu by the arm, hauling him out of his seat. When Ritsu makes no attempt to really stand on his own, he sighs. “We’re going,” he says. “So you have two options. I’ll carry you like a sack of grain, or you can climb on my back.” 

“Your back _is_ reserved for me,” Ritsu mumbles to himself, letting Mao tug him into place, sniffling and dripping from the nose. “Ev’ryone I love. Ev’ryone I only...kinda like. Dead. I’d rather be grain.”

Mao says nothing about that, and simply hefts Ritsu up, tossing up and over his shoulder as if he weighs nothing. His horse awaits outside, tethered to his post, and before Mao tosses Ritsu up into the saddle, he sets Ritsu onto the ground, grabs a bucket of cold rainwater, and dumps it over Ritsu’s head. 

“Pull yourself together.” He pulls off his own cloak, thrusting it in Ritsu’s direction. “We don’t have time for you to cry over false information.” 

Ritsu gasps in the cold water deluge, floundering like a confused fish. “Pleh! Maao, why?!”

“Because you’re drunk and useless right now, and I need you to be everything but.” Mao hesitates before leaning down, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “They aren’t dead. The Sena heir, or the prince. They might end up dead, however, if you don’t help.” 

Red eyes widen, and Ritsu lurches up, burning his inner reserves of power to destroy the alcohol in his system immediately. He scrambles into the saddle properly, yanking Mao up with one hand. “Lead,” he orders, arms tightening around Mao’s waist.

“That’s more like it,” Mao mutters, spinning his horse with a firm hand and heel. “I’ll brief you. Sena ended up here as a research subject for the Academy. They absolutely thought he was dead, and assigned his corpse to one of my charges, Makoto. You know, the sweet blond one.” He heaves a sigh, urging his horse along one of the less traveled paths around the city. “He proceeded to smuggle him to his living quarters and has been taking care of him. It’s a mess, as you might imagine, but he _is_ alive. They just can’t stay here any longer.” 

“And the prince? He’s alive too?” Ritsu demands, hands tightening on Mao’s shirt. “Ahh, I knew Izumi wouldn’t die so easy, but the king...that bastard. Maao, you dumped water on me, the least you can do is give me a little drink...”

“Stop it, not in public,” Mao mutters, leaning forward a bit more to avoid the inevitability of Ritsu’s mouth on his neck. “The prince is alive, too. He’s not here. He’s in High Harbor, at my master’s estate.” 

“And Arashi?”

“As far as I know, Sir Arashi is there as well, as well as the two wizards from his army.” Mao hesitates, glancing down at the reins in his hands. “My master was…very adamant, about His Excellency Shu being returned to him.” 

Ritsu’s eyes sharpen, breath quickening in excitement as he leans forward, as if that’ll make the horse go faster. “You’ve gotta tell me about your master sometime,” he complains. “Who’s this guy, that’s so powerful? I want my friends back, I’m gonna bite your master.”

“Ritsu.” Now’s as good a time as any, probably. Maybe with this information, Ritsu will be even more inclined to go above and beyond in helping them. “My master is your brother, the Demon King.”

Ritsu feels his heart stop.

Thoughts race through his head, chasing each other at high speeds, as his stomach plummets. Anger, relief, betrayal--from his brother, from Mao, from everyone who has ever kept this from him--loop through him, and his nails grow longer, his fangs lengthening in his mouth as he lets out a low hiss, grabbing Mao by the back of his shirt and yanking him off the horse, holding him one-handed in the air as he rides. “Ma~ao,” he says quietly, dangerously, “that sounds like the kind of thing...you _really_ should have told me.”

Mao yelps, scrabbling at his horse’s saddle to keep from _dangling_. “Ritsu—Ritsu, I couldn’t, damn it!” he snaps, craning his neck to try and glower up at him. “I work for the Academy! If I had told you when I met you, it could have ruined everything! It was important that I kept my mouth shut, so that your brother could come back to power—so that we could get a better king on the throne—you name it, there are good reasons, I swear, I wasn’t just fucking with you!” 

Ritsu’s arm doesn’t waver, bolstered by his magical nature, though he’s burning through it at an alarming rate. Still, this is important, so he continues dangling, face dark. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he demands again, as if he hadn’t heard. “None of that shit means anything. I thought he was dead for _decades_ , you’re supposed to be my _friend_ \--he’s right, you can’t trust _any_ humans. I thought you were different.”

“Damn it, Ritsu, listen to me for five seconds! If you don’t let me back in the damned saddle, I’ll put a ward on you myself so we can have a real conversation.” Mao grinds his teeth together. “It wasn’t safe for him to reveal himself yet. I don’t know all of the details, but all I know is that I wasn’t allowed to tell you—he was worried about making sure you stayed safe, and so was I, obviously! If you couldn’t trust me, would I literally work for the Academy and not tell them what you are? You’re a wizard and a half-blood, you fool, I’ve been protecting you for years, so calm down and stop being such a brat!” 

Resentfully, Ritsu drags Mao back into the saddle, letting go of his magic, letting it swirl back into his vortex of power, considerably lower than usual due to expending it for the first time in years. “Ahh, I’m low on magic now. This is your fault, for sure. And my stupid brother.” His heart still races at the idea of his brother, though, and he squeezes his legs around the horse, trying to subtly urge it faster, towards his friends.

“Stop it, we can’t draw too much attention to ourselves than we already have!” Mao jerks the reins out of Ritsu’s hold, yanking his horse to an abrupt stop, ignoring the annoyed toss of its head. “You’re just lucky I can silence magic even on your level! You’re so…ugh. I need you to escort the Sena heir and Makoto to High Harbor. The captain of your brother’s guard, Akehoshi, will be joining you to help as well. You’ll meet up with your brother there, and I’m sure he’ll explain everything further—I honestly _don’t_ know what he has planned, so I can’t tell you anything else.”

Ritsu subsides, sulky and grumpy, feelings still churning uncomfortably in his belly. “You still should’ve told me. I’m gonna be angry for a while. You get to make it up to me.” _And so does he...for years._

“I wish I could have told you. I mean that.” Mao heaves a sigh, shutting his eyes briefly before he twists in the saddle, looking back at Ritsu. “Your safety was my priority. I _am_ sorry.” 

Ritsu pouts, but it’s hard to be as angry with Mao as he is with his brother, who’d forced him to keep silent. He leans forward, rubbing his forehead against Mao’s shoulder. “I guess it just means you really care about me,” he decides. “Because you have to keep me safe even if I’m mad at you.”

“Of course I care about you, you brat,” Mao sighs, petting the top of Ritsu’s head. “That’s not really negotiable. Ahh…the idea of you dealing with all of this gives me hives, honestly. Makoto is fairly easy to deal with, but the Sena heir…well, I guess you’re better with him than I am, but he’s…” Mao flutters a hand. “You’ll see.”

He nudges his horse forward again. “I don’t like that I have to stay behind, but having eyes within the Academy and the capital—my master needs that more than anything right now.”

“Izumi is a good kid,” Ritsu says softly. “If he’s being hard to handle, he’s not acting like himself. How far are we? How far is my...your master?” Because if Rei is really that much in hiding, Ritsu certainly isn’t going to ruin it for him with a slip of the tongue.

“They’re on the other side of town. High Harbor is…a few days ride from here? Akehoshi knows the way exactly. Ah, I’d rather you all be in the North, that’s safer, much further away, but with the North trying to march on the capital…” Mao winces. “Needs must. You need to make sure all of you stay properly cloaked along the way. You’ve got an active duty wizard _and_ a half-blood to deal with.” 

“I can handle it.” Ritsu brushes the hair back from his face, setting his jaw, resolute. “I’m more skilled than you know. I survived for a _long_ time without being taken care of. I’ll cloak all of us...as long as we can just travel at night.”

Mao’s smile is wry. “I know how skilled you are,” he says, glancing back over his shoulder at Ritsu. “I’m the most skilled magical investigator the Academy has. How long do you think I’ve been hiding your little slips, hmm?” 

Heading back into the city proper, Mao goes quiet until they come to a stop around the back of the Academy’s housing units. “I’ve arranged to have horses brought in an hour, when the sun sets. I expect that’s enough time for you to speak to Akehoshi, learn the route, and…hopefully settle Sena’s nerves.” He hesitates. “He’s not exactly…cooperating. He has no interest in going to High Harbor. I think my master has bound Akehoshi’s tongue when it comes to talking about the prince—because he does nothing but run his mouth—so it’s up to you if you want to say something, but…I don’t know. He’s in such a state that it might be unwise to bring it up, or he might act…too recklessly.” 

Ritsu nods slowly. “I’ll use discretion or whatever. Hopefully he’ll be so happy to see me that none of the rest of it’ll matter. Which room is he in? Ah, Maao might want to stay back, I’ve got to talk to him and stuff might blow up when there’s two half-breeds getting feisty.”

“Please don’t let that happen,” Mao groans, wiping a hand down his face as he slides off of his horse, tethering it and offering Ritsu a hand to help him down reflexively before his face goes hot. Right. Ritsu is a knight in his own right, Mao doesn’t have to treat him like a lady or like a wizard that can barely ride. “I’ll take you there,” he mutters. “And then I’ll leave it to you.” 

Ritsu takes Mao’s hand with a slow smile, as if he can see every bit of Mao’s thought process, swinging down to the ground and landing lightly on his feet. Then he leans forward, draping his arms around Mao’s neck with a sigh. “I should just be your lady, don’t you think? That’s way more fun than all this running around. Would you be a good husband for me, do you think?”

Mao’s face flushes hotter, but he doesn’t pull away, no matter how his body reflexively wants to. What a combination—the brother of his master, a wizard, a half-blood…all of the kinds he’s always been trained to avoid getting close to, but… 

“You deserve a high-born wife, I think,” he softly says, giving Ritsu’s back a gentle rub. “You don’t fit into the role of a lady.” 

_That’s not pushing me away,_ Ritsu thinks smugly, and leans up, pressing a lingering kiss to Mao’s cheek. “When you get bored of waiting for me to take a high-born wife, tell me, and I’ll make you my lady,” Ritsu says with a hum, then turns, walking up the stairs to where he can smell Izumi, knocking on the door. “Izumiiiiii?”

“I—w-what the hell, Ritsu, I’m not—“ Mao scowls, rubbing at his cheek, and follows after him, his face still hot. “Here,” he mutters, unlocking the door with a turn of a key. “Makoto,” he calls, “we’re coming in.” 

Izumi doesn’t rise from where he remains coiled up in a ball on Makoto’s bed, head resting in his lap. He does, however, exhale a low, suspicious hiss at the sound of Mao’s voice—and at the sound of what _might_ be Ritsu’s, maybe, but he can’t trust it. 

Makoto looks up, blinking at the red-eyed apparition, drawing back into himself with nerves, though his hand doesn’t pause on Izumi’s hair. “Who...”

“Hi,” Ritsu declares, and walks in, sitting down next to Izumi. “You smell awful. What’d they do to your blood?”

Mao lingers by the door, locking it behind them. “This is Ritsu,” he introduces Makoto. “A friend of mine. He’s going to be escorting you along with Akehoshi.” 

Izumi’s stare is still wary, as if he doesn’t quite believe Ritsu is still actually here, in the flesh, and not _dead._ “…How aren’t you dead?” he lowly asks, slowly sitting up. “They told me—they told me they killed everyone that worked with Arashi.” 

Ritsu rolls his eyes, then pokes at Izumi’s neck, annoyed with his blood quality even now, ignoring the guy with the thick spectacles. “They didn’t do anything like that, they didn’t even ask me questions. If they really did capture Arashi, they obviously didn’t bother torturing him, ha.”

Makoto blanches. “T-torture? The king’s officers wouldn’t do anything like that.”

There’s a heavy silence that follows that, but Izumi’s attention is too far elsewhere to even bother explaining to Makoto otherwise. “Ritsu…is…is that what I keep smelling?” There’s a quiet edge of panic to Izumi’s voice that he can’t quite stamp down, and he lifts a hand to his own neck, feeling the pulse of his carotid artery underneath his fingers when his nails dig in. “It doesn’t matter how much I bathe, I keep—I keep smelling something awful, and it’s driving me insane—“

“Duh, why do you think you’re not healing right? It’s poison for half-bloods, obviously,” Ritsu says, annoyed. 

“Um, he’s healing very quickly--”

“Put your hands down. Neck to the side.” Ritsu lets his fangs slide out, and he says, displeased and a little slurred because of them, “I ‘ope ‘ou know ‘ow muff I ‘ate ‘oing ‘ish.” 

Then he strikes, sucking deeper and faster than he ever has, filling his belly to a disgusting, distended degree, a hand lashing out to knock the blond kid away, draining fast and deep before Izumi’s body has a chance to replace and mingle with the tainted blood. He sucks so hard it makes him dizzy, draining every last drop before turning, retching violently all over the floor, again and again as he convulses, poison starting to infiltrate his own bloodstream.

“ _Ritsu_ —damn it, at least _warn me_ first!” Mao dives to right him before he can collapse and choke on his own vomit, hauling Ritsu back against himself to steady him. “Why are you like this?” he hisses, though his voice is deeply worried, and he warily spares a glance over to Izumi, who is now more or less unconscious, white as a sheet and draped over Makoto’s bed. “That couldn’t have _waited?_ Ugh, Makoto, go fetch some water and rags,” he orders, gingerly letting Ritsu’s head loll back against his shoulder. “You’re not immortal, idiot, stop acting like you are.” 

“I, I can’t leave him,” Makoto says, panicking as he tries to shake Izumi back to consciousness, then suddenly remembers that he’d been dead before--stabbed and beaten and crushed, and he’d still healed. Even as he watches, Izumi’s body starts to expand, color slowly rushing back to his skin. “Oh! Then--” He dashes to the washroom quickly, fetching a bucket of water and several rags, wondering when his life had gone so insane. Ritsu is still slumped over, shuddering and trembling, until Makoto realizes that he’s biting his own lips, sucking the blood in, then vomiting it out in a strange cycle.

“Gods, you idiot, _here_.” 

Mao shoves his own wrist between Ritsu’s teeth. It’s a stupid decision, but he doesn’t have much of a choice, not when Ritsu’s going to kill himself at this rate. “If you hurt yourself because of something this stupid, I’ll be furious. Drink and _properly_ flush all of that mess out of yourself.” 

Ritsu turns his head, striking deep, and sucks down no more than a mouthful before his instincts kick in-- _This is MAO._

With anyone else, as wrung out as he is, as wrecked as he is, he would have to drink deeply. With Mao, he turns his head, taking just enough to survive, metabolizing it quickly, his body kicking into overdrive, burning through what’s left of the thready magic poison. “That,” he pants, eyes squeezed shut, tears falling even so, head resting on Mao’s lap, “was so much worse than I thought it would be. You’re fucking lucky I’m a bloodbred.”

“No, _you’re_ lucky I’m not tossing you out the window,” Mao scolds, worrying at his own lower lip as he slowly strokes Ritsu’s hair, pushing it out of his face in an attempt to soothe him. “You can’t just _do_ things like that.” 

His wrist aches from Ritsu’s too-rough bite, and he shakes out his hand, breathing out a shaky sigh. “Here.” He offers up the same wrist. “Drink again, just to make sure. You can’t travel when you’re weakened, and if I can help like this, then there’s no reason I shouldn’t.” 

Ritsu nuzzles at the skin instead, pressing a kiss to it as he looks up. “Just go find me a criminal or something, let me have a real drink.”

“No. We’re not doing that.” Mao’s eyes narrow. “Ritsu, I’m telling you to drink.” 

“Mm, nope.” Ritsu’s eyes flutter, and he lets them, snuggling into Mao’s lap. “Not sure I could stop. I’m not gonna do that. Gimme the blond kid, I’ll drink from him if you want me to.”

“Makoto is off-limits. I’ll make sure you stop, don’t make me invite you again.” 

“Yuukun is off-limits,” Izumi dazedly echoes from the bed, flapping a pale arm off the side of it. “Nn. Ritsu. You can…you can drink from me, it’ll come back…test it, tell me if it’s good again, please…” 

“That’s weird,” Mao flatly says. “Really weird.” 

“No, he gets it,” Ritsu mumbles. He makes to go over, but can’t move yet, the poison leaving him scraped raw inside, even though he’d managed to purge it before it could do much damage. In his own body, he can control his blood’s flow, getting new blood flowing in while he bites and spits out the gross stuff trying to cripple him, trying to shut down his brain function. “Get over here, Izumi. I can’t move yet.”

“Y-you’ve taken enough from him,” Makoto says, as firmly as he can, clinging to Izumi’s hand.

Mao heaves a sigh and slowly, carefully draws Ritsu up to his feet, leaning his weight entirely against his own body. “Up we go. Ahh, I don’t like this either, but these two obviously know what they’re doing,” he frets, gently depositing Ritsu onto the bed. 

“Mm, mm, it’s fine,” Izumi mumbles, weakly shaking off Makoto’s hand to slither up to Ritsu, flopping against him. “Do it, I feel so groooss.” 

Ritsu’s eyes flash with something dark, hungry, and inhuman, but his teeth are gentle when he sets them to Izumi’s neck, taking a long drink that would put anyone else in a coma, then sitting back with a satisfied sigh. “Ahhh...that’s better. Classic Izumi flavor. Don’t go messing it up again.”

Izumi lets out a tired, whimpering noise, slumping against Ritsu. The rush of regenerating blood makes him lightheaded, almost like he’s drunk, and he nearly tips off the bed, only to grab onto Ritsu with trembling fingers to keep himself on it. “Sorry,” he whispers. “Sorry, I’m sorry.” 

Mao shuts his eyes briefly, then shakes his head, turning away to get to the task of cleaning up the room. He’ll never claim to fully understand anything about half-bloods and how they function—that _would_ be why the Academy is so desperate to study them, after all—but this is just a little _too_ weird. 

Ritsu turns his head to watch Mao, even as his blood thuds in his own ears, finally churning properly in his veins. A younger bloodbred wouldn’t have survived that, he knows, chilled down to his bones, but he doesn’t say it. Instead, he threads his hands through Izumi’s hair, petting gently. “You feel better? You must’ve felt really fuzzy since you woke up, right? It was a poison that stays in and infects your brain. You’ve been trying to heal it, I bet, but that makes your body reeeeally tired, even if you’re an icebred.”

Izumi slowly shakes his head back and forth, more to butt against the touch to his hair than to give any kind of a response. “’s the worst,” he murmurs. “I knew…I knew they had drugged me, but I didn’t know with what. No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t keep up with healing everything, a-and it just got worse and worse…” He shivers hard, shutting his eyes. “Ahh…I can’t smell it anymore, that’s good, I really wanted to rip off my own skin…” 

“That wouldn’t have helped,” Ritsu says with a sigh. “You’re strong, so you were keeping it in your blood and out of your skin. Nice. Otherwise it’d be gross and in your hair, ew. Now you can grow your hair out instead of shaving it. Nnh, get better soon, your stressed face isn’t good.”

Izumi cringes at the idea of shaving his hair, and gingerly lifts a hand to touch it, just to make sure it’s not suddenly super gross for one reason or another. “Sorry,” he mutters, rubbing a hand across the back of his eyes. “That was just…the worst. Thank you, for doing that.” He rocks back, opening his eyes again, staring down at his hands as he sucks in a slow breath. The world is _so_ much easier to focus on, and he hadn’t even realized it. He had just assumed that was what living _felt like_ now. In a way, he longs for that lack of focus again—it was much easier to lie there and languish and let every terrible thing rerun over and over and over in his mind—but at the same time… “I know we’re supposed to be leaving,” he softly says, “but I think everyone I want to kill is right here in the capital.” 

Ritsu frowns, trying to figure out how to get Izumi to High Harbor rather than letting him languish here. “...no,” he says firmly, darting a glance over at Mao. “We’ve got to go to High Harbor. Like, now.”

“Why? I’m not interested in running away.” Izumi pushes his bangs out of his face, scowling. “The crown thinks I’m dead. I don’t have a magical signature like wizards do. If I can knock off some of these fuckers, all the better for it.”

“My master requested your presence in High Harbor,” Mao firmly says, tossing the last rag into the bucket, and wipes his hands as he climbs to his feet. “You’re going.” 

“I don’t care what your master wants from me. My mother is still coming for the capital, isn’t she?” Izumi’s glance swings to Makoto. “We were just talking about this.” 

“If you’re staying, you’re doing it alone,” Ritsu warns, actively scowling now. “I want to go to High Harbor, and I can’t cloak you if you’re not with me.”

Izumi’s lips set in a tight line. “Fine, I’ll do it alone.” That’s nothing new, even though it irks him in this case. “If you’re going, go. I’m not missing out on an opportunity to kill every piece of shit that I can.” 

“You’re being foolish. High Harbor is absolutely the safest place for you right now—“

“I don’t want to hear that from someone who works for the Academy,” Izumi interrupts sharply. “I’ll meet my mother when she comes to the city, and I’ll deal with the spineless king and every piece of shit duke he has to his name myself.” 

Makoto lays a hand on Izumi’s shoulder, eyes bright. “If you think it’s time to act, I’ll b-be by your side,” he promises, even if his voice shakes. 

“This is dumb. Maao, take some of that nasty blood and put it back in him,” Ritsu complains. “I’m going to High Harbor, I’ve waited long enough.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Mao exasperatedly says, throwing his hands up. “Makoto—I can’t cloak you the way Ritsu can. If you join him, you’re going to be directly going against the Academy. The _best_ I can do is silence any listeners in whatever quarters you keep, but you _can’t_ keep staying here if this is what you’re going to do.”

“We don’t need to stay here,” Izumi firmly says. “I’ll contact my mother, and she’ll meet us, and that’ll be the end of it.” 

Ritsu stands, grabbing his cloak. “Fine. I’ll go meet the prince myself.”

“Wait—what?” Izumi bolts upright, and his eyes narrow. “Don’t fuck with me just to make me go,” he lowly warns. “Or I’ll add you to my list.” 

“I’ve been added to the list by people a lot scarier than you,” Ritsu says, annoyed. “Sorry, Maao, I know you didn’t want me to tell him, but I’m going to see my brother and no one can stop me. Izumi, if you think I’m lying, bye. But I’m going. And Mao says your prince is with my brother.”

The stare that Izumi fixates upon Mao is enough to send a chill down his spine, and he barely has a chance to say, “Sena, there’s a reason—“ before Izumi is on his feet, snatching him up by the front of his shirt and slamming him back into the wall hard enough to make his teeth rattle in his head. 

“You knew the whole fucking time?!” Izumi’s grip on his shirt collar is tight enough to choke him. “Fuck you, _fuck you_ , I saw him die, I was too late to fucking save him, how do I know if you’re even telling the truth now?!” 

“I’m r-repeating what my master has told me, that’s all—“

“I’ll kill you, you piece of shit Academy _rat_ —“ 

It’s reflex that makes Mao reach for the knife stashed against his back, but Izumi is faster, and far more skilled, wrenching it from his grip in a heartbeat and throwing him to the ground. He follows, a knee slammed into Mao’s gut, knife at his throat, his own chest heaving. “How the fuck do I know you’re not fucking with all of us?” he breathes, his eyes far too-bright. “You know just how to poke at us, huh? Tell Ritsu the Demon King’s back—tell Yuukun he can be free—let it slip that the prince is alive—once a spy, always a fucking spy. I’ve been looking for a mole, maybe it’s you.”

“Leave him alone!” Ritsu snarls, but doesn’t run up, hovering back with his claws and teeth extended, flashing in the low light. “I didn’t save your fucking life so you could bully my mate!” Probably not how he should say it the first time, especially when he hasn’t said anything to Mao yet, but he doesn’t give a shit right now, not when there’s a knife at Mao’s throat. “I’ll kill you myself, don’t think I won’t!”

“L-Lord Izumi,” Makoto says, horrified, grabbing at Izumi’s sleeve. “Please, he saved your life, he’s been hiding us! He’s--he’s my friend!”

“Let me go, Yuukun.” Izumi’s voice is low in warning, and the knife pricks at Mao’s throat, drawing a single drop of blood. “Him saving my life means nothing if he’s just trying to lure all of us to a different kind of death.” 

Mao swallows hard, his throat bobbing underneath the honed edge of the blade. “I know there’s little I can say to convince you,” he slowly, _carefully_ says. “But I swear to you—I swear to your _prince_ that I’m not any kind of mole that you’re looking for. My allegiance is not to the Academy or the High Emperor.” 

“Talk is cheap. Prove it.” 

Izumi’s voice is ice cold, and Mao sucks in a wary breath. “How would you like me to—“

“Figure it out.” 

Mao’s eyes flick away from Izumi, over to Ritsu. A little help, please? The hell does he want to hear? 

_“You don’t get to swear a blood pact with him,” Ritsu growls, eyes dark as a starless night, pupils slit, fangs retracted just enough to let him speak. “No one gets to touch him. I’ll swear for him. I’ll--”_

Something occurs to him, and his nails retract, eyes becoming human again. “I know. I’ll do a summoning. If my brother’s alive, if he’s close in High Harbor, he can hear me. But it’s impossible to hide. If I do this, everyone is going to know there’s a bloodbred from the Shadowlands throwing magic around. Mao, how much can you hide me?”

“I can help,” Makoto pipes up. “I can’t hide myself at all, but I’ve learned the theory of power lending to someone else’s cloaking spells.”

Izumi still looks decidedly skeptical, the knife at Mao’s throat unwavering. “But I don’t care about your brother,” he softly says. “I’m not going to High Harbor just because he’s there, or because he asked me to. I don’t know him, and I don’t fucking trust him, if he’s been jerking you around for so long.” 

“Then—“ Mao’s mind quickly grasps for what to say to get that blade _off_ of his neck. “Ritsu. Can you contact Sir Arashi? He’s…he’s in High Harbor as well. And he isn’t involved in anything the Demon King has done.” 

Ritsu nods. “That’ll be easier anyway, he doesn’t have the practice cloaking himself that my brother does.” His eyes are still wary on Izumi, but he pulls back slightly. “Let him go so he can cast his spell. He’s not a fighter. He needs his hands.”

Izumi remains unmoving for another long moment before he slowly picks himself up, the knife still firmly in his grasp. “Go on, then. If you try to help him run, I’ll kill you, too,” he warns Ritsu. 

“I’m not running, I’m not,” Mao defensively says as he climbs to his feet, hands up. “Gods, is everyone in that army like this? First Sir Arashi, now you…” 

He reaches into a leather pouch on his belt, pulling free a shining, solid black stone. “You have until the dust fades from breaking this,” he warns Ritsu. “Try to make it quick, okay?” 

Ritsu nods, then straightens up his hair, not wanting to look as awful as possible when he sees Arashi again after months. He slips his index fingers into his mouth, quickly pricking both of them, rubbing the blood between his fingers and thumbs, feeling magic start to swell around him. “Do it now.”

Makoto lays a hand on Mao’s shoulder, closing his eyes, letting power flow out of him and into Mao, bolstering his power.

Mao sucks in a breath, and breaks the stone in the palm of his hand. 

The cloak that expands over the room brings almost oppressive silence with it, creeping the spellwork over the walls, coating the windows, sealing the door. The little shards of it already start to crumble, and Mao winces, reminded of why this is a poor decision. For wizard half-bloods like _Ritsu_ , this sort of cloak gets eaten through very, very quickly. “Quickly,” he quietly reiterates, eyes lidded as he tries to focus and slow the decomposition down. 

Something snaps, and the dust whirls into a tiny dervish in the center of the room, blending with the air into the shadowy form of Captain Arashi of the Sharps. He looks different, hair a bit longer, clothing more casual and flowing, looking startled. “Ritsu?” he asks, eyes struggling to focus, then looking around. “Who else--”

The wineglass he’s carrying drops out of the frame, and a second later, red drops splatter over his trousers. “Izumi?” he asks, incredulous, eyes wide. Then he claps, delighted, eyes flashing. “I knew it, I knew you were alive, I’ve got to tell His Highness!”

The knife clatters from Izumi’s hold, no matter how he tries to tell himself this could be a lie, no matter how he tries to convince himself it’s just a stupid illusion. 

But it’s _Arashi_ , and Ritsu— _Ritsu_ has no need to lie to him, no matter his loyalty to the Academy’s suspicious magical investigator. He has to tell himself that, that Ritsu wouldn’t go this far. 

Tears prick into his eyes unbidden, and Izumi shoves a hand up against them as he sniffles. “Fuck,” he whispers. “You _are_ alive, I thought…t-they said they had killed you.” 

“Killed me? Oh, darling, they _wish_. Where are you? Ah, gods, I didn’t know it would feel so good to see you--seriously, I’ll run there.” Arashi’s voice is wistful, and he reaches out a hand.

But the dust is settling, and Ritsu warns, “Ten seconds,” looking at Izumi through gritted teeth.

Izumi’s heart thuds painfully against his ribcage, and he drops the hand from his face, hesitantly reaching out, as if maybe, _maybe_ their fingers _might_ touch. “I…I’m heading there, don’t worry about it. You better kiss me when I get there.” And because he has to say it, he _has to_ —“Tell His Highness I’m coming as fast as I can, okay?” 

Arashi gets in half a nod before the illusion collapses, Ritsu breathing out hard, shards of ice falling from his lips as he does. “We should move immediately,” he says, shouldering his cloak. “Hopefully they won’t know what that was, but they’ll definitely know something happened. Right, Maao?”

Makoto looks around, then yanks his boots on. They’re not the tough boots of a warrior, but soft-soled, able to be worn in libraries and workrooms as well as around paved cities, but hopefully they’ll hold up well enough. “You’re not leaving me,” he warns.

Izumi, still sniffling, just nods, wiping at his eyes. “Of course I’m not,” he whispers. “Ah…gods. How far is it to High Harbor? Three, two days if we ride hard?”

Mao subtly puts his foot down over the knife Izumi dropped, and kicks it well out of his distance. “Far enough that hopefully, no one will be suspecting you’re headed that way. Go outside. Akehoshi will be here soon with horses, he’s your guide. And cover your hair, Sena, it’s too recognizable.” 

Izumi nods, pulling the hood of his borrowed cloak up and over his head before he grabs Makoto’s arm, dragging him out the door without another moment’s hesitation. Mao waits before his gaze swings to Ritsu, weighted and concerned—but he says nothing, except for a quiet: “Ride safely.” 

Ritsu’s slitted eyes hold Mao’s, too intense to be human. “When I come back, you’ll be mine,” he says, because he’s already said it and there’s no taking it back now. “Don’t die.”

Then he turns, cloak swirling behind him as he runs down to meet the oddly too-cheerful soldier, holding the reins to a few horses built for speed, launching them into the waiting darkness.


	18. Chapter 18

Town after town scatters the shoreline as they veer towards the capital proper, and it has only taken three of those towns for Eichi to finally get lost. 

It wasn’t deliberate _, honestly._ One minute, his entire entourage had been trailing him, intent on keeping him safe and sound and monitored, and the next, they had gone another way, and he had been distracted by food, as one is apt to be when quaint little stands all smell delicious, and when Wataru isn’t in his immediate vicinity to distract him with a swish of his hair, well… 

Eichi isn’t worried, not necessarily—not until it starts to rain. The downpour is one that could only come off of the nearby sea, coming down in long, exhaustingly cold buckets, and Eichi takes cover under the first awning he can find, huddled and cold and already feeling himself start to shake down to his bones. The heavy white cloak he wears isn’t exactly made for this kind of weather, and it weighs him down, making him feel colder rather than insulated against any dampness. Sulking, displeased by this turn of events, and more than a little irritated that his fish on a stick is _also_ damp, counting down the moments of when he’ll be found again suddenly becomes a chore…especially if he’s intent on not using magic. It’s better to be safe than sorry in today’s world, apparently. 

At the sudden presence of another person, Leo starts, distracted from the loop his mind has been running in for the past several hours. His hand creeps surreptitiously to the hilt of his slender sword under his cloak, but he doubts he’ll need to use it, not when there’s just one opponent. “Hello, stranger,” he says quietly, though just loud enough to be heard over the splattering rain. “Get caught in the storm?”

“Ah!” Eichi starts, blinking wide blue eyes down at the stranger that he absolutely did _not_ notice. Whoops. “I didn’t even realize you were there,” he says out loud, huddling back a bit more with a dismissive smile. “My apologies. Hmm. You’re so little I barely notice you now, how cute.” 

“I’m a fully-grown man,” Leo growls, releasing his sword and tugging his hood further around himself. “You’re just far too tall. And you look too delicate to be out without an escort.”

“I don’t think I’m too tall, I think I’m about right. You’re too short, probably.” Eichi’s head tilts. “My escorts seem to have lost me, you’re correct. The weather isn’t helping. Does it always rain like this out of nowhere here?” 

“Hmm, I haven’t been here long. It doesn’t usually rain like this out of nowhere in the Capital or the Sandlands, though.” Leo frowns out at the rain. “You’d think the weather wouldn’t be that different, this close to the capital. But the ocean changes things.”

His hair, dyed brown for his travels, hangs down around his face, loose from its tail. More importantly, a red strip of cloth is tied around his wrist, a symbol that he’s embarked on an honor hunt, and will have neither a restful meal or a soft bed until it’s completed, and the dishonor avenged. No one at High Harbor would have let him; he’d snuck out in the middle of the night, winding the strip around and tying it with his teeth when no one would help him, determined to find his backstabbing uncle and put an end to him. He touches the cloth to his lips now, the thought of Izumi keeping him strong.

“Ah, I suppose you aren’t from here, are you? Your accent, it’s from the capital proper.” Eichi sounds disinterested, even as he watches the stranger out of the corner of his eye. “Heading home? You seem a bit distracted…I suppose there has been a bit of unrest about recently. I heard a whoooole bunch of men died in an explosion in the Sandlands. Scary, right?” 

“People are sick of not being listened to,” Leo says softly. “They’re sick of being pushed around and treated like dirt, don’t you think?”

“Ooh. You’re one of _those_.” Eichi’s eyes light up, and he huddles firmly underneath his cloak, peering down at Leo. “Are you a rebel? Are you trying to go against the crown?” 

Leo’s eyes flick over at the stranger, looking him carefully up and down. “I don’t recognize you from court. But you’re traveling with a retinue? You must be a very wealthy merchant, or someone from the Academy.”

“Ehh, you’re being so nitpicky.” Eichi’s smile is too-sweet. “I don’t recognize you, either, but you’ve got a way of talking that says you’re _very_ properly raised. I can ignore that and keep talking, if you’re willing to ignore a few things about me, too.” 

Leo doesn’t smile back, but adjusts the wrap on his arm instead, shifting to keep it out of the rain. “If this answers your question, the man I’m off to kill is of lower status than I am. I’m not out to topple the regime.”

“Mm, more details. I love a good story.” Eichi’s eyes glitter, vaguely dangerous. “You mentioned the court. So that means you know their faces well, but you’re so young. I don’t know much of the courts myself, but, well, needs must. Was it your lover that you’re avenging? Your brother, sister?”

“...Lover,” Leo says softly. He lets his hand curl around his sword’s hilt again, more for comfort than reassurance this time. Izumi had hated the rain. He’d flourished in ice and snow over rocks, the color of his hair in the sunlight.

“Ahh. Sorry to hear that. So someone in the capital did it? A shame. Unless your lover deserved it, of course, but…” Eichi shrugs a little, trying not to shiver. 

“If that were the case, I wouldn’t have this cloth tied around my wrist.” Leo lets go of his sword, then stares at the other man, side-eyeing him. “If you were a frail old man or a maiden, I’d give you my cloak, but you’re taller and bigger than me.”

“Sounds like maybe you should grow, then,” Eichi cheerfully says. “Thank you, though. I’ll be fine, I’m sure my attendants will be finding me soon, they always do. You know, in many cases of vengeance, rarely are all parties free of blame.” 

Leo’s mouth turns up at one corner in a wry smile. “Are you meant to be the wise man I meet on my journey of death, that convinces me to turn away from the unrighteous path? You don’t look like a wizened crone. Maybe you’re from the moon.”

“I’ve been told that before. I’m _definitely_ from somewhere else, and I’m very, very old, so that’s close enough, I think.” Eichi pauses, then leans in closer, getting a good look at Leo’s eyes. “Hmm. Those are very green. That’s unusual, even in the capital.” 

“Excellency! Ahh, Slave, I’ve found him, praise me!”

The high, sweet voice of previously high-born Tori of the Himemiya line makes Eichi straighten, catching sight of a nearly mirror image of the same large, sparkly green eyes heading his way that he had just been looking into. How…interesting. His lips slowly curve, and he glances back to his peculiar company. “Do you have a name, stranger?” 

Leo tugs his hood farther over his head, heart thundering at the appearance of someone he knows all too well. “I’m the High Orbital Chancellor of the Moon,” he deadpans, and leaves the little makeshift shelter behind, braving the last of the storm rather than be caught by one Tori Himemiya.

“Ehh? No, wait, come back!” Eichi protests, leaning out nearly into the rain again. “We can both be from the moon, that sounds _fun._ ” 

The storm is violent enough that a particularly sharp wind is enough to topple unsuspecting travelers into one another, and now is no exception. One such traveler happens to be coming from the opposite direction, just as Leo steps onto the main road again, and a particularly strong gust of wind wrenches him sideways. “Ah—my apologies, sir,” he hurriedly apologizes as his shoulder bumps into Leo’s, the brilliant shock of his red hair exposed the second the wind keeps blowing, ripping his heavy, expensive cloak hood from his head. 

“S…Suou?” 

The traveler freezes, violet eyes gone wide. “H…Himemiya?”

“You!” Tori shrieks, jabbing a finger in Tsukasa’s direction. “It’s you! How dare you be here when I’m coming to the capital for _your_ benefit! You lazy, fat slob, I’ll—“

“Oh, you’ve made a friend,” Eichi hums, not yet daring to venture out into the rain and get colder. That’s not necessary. “How delightful.” 

Leo draws back into the shadows, his heart racing. Suou--he knows that name, knows it well. He’s had long talks with this boy in the Capital, talks that had left him amused, the other boy frustrated, both of them stimulated and interested in politics and the future. But what would that young man be doing here, on the road, and looking--he takes a closer look--quite a bit pudgier than he had last time?

“Young master,” a smooth voice says from behind Tori, “perhaps we should be courteous to the others of your station, and mind your tongue in front of the Emperor.”

The Emperor.

_That gentle little smile feels cold now, and Leo draws back further, making certain that even his dyed hair is hidden under his cloak._

“I think it’s funny,” Eichi cheerfully says, though he shivers pointedly, the cold starting to soak through his cloak even more. “Ah, but Tori—is this really the boy we’re going to confirm in the capital? He seems a little—“

“If you’re going to see me in the capital, my apologies.” Tsukasa’s voice is stiff, refusing to let his nerves come out and into it, but his hand drifts to the sword at his hip all the same. “You won’t find me there.” 

“Worthless pig,” Tori sneers, eyes gleaming. “Did you run away? I bet you did!” 

Tsukasa’s lips purse. “I—“

“Ahh, Tori, be sweet, be sweet—we’ll just take him back with us, if that’s the case.” Eichi finally pulls his hood back over his head to step back into the rain. It’s little more than a drizzle now, and he’s already wet, so it’s fine. “I think it would also be good to bring _my_ new friend with us.” A slow, but deliberate wind sweeps down the road, as if it’s someone fluttering their hand, and Leo’s cloak is pulled down off of his head. The brown dye in his hair starts to drip from it, rapidly revealing the brilliant, fiery orange of the royal line. “He seems…fun.” 

Leo’s hand darts to the hilt of his sword. He’s not stupid enough to think that this is an accident, nor that someone who is apparently _the Emperor of the Academy_ , the one it’s rumored pulls the strings even of his father, the immortal ruler of the most powerful body in the realm, doesn’t know who he is. He draws his sword slowly, deliberately, eyes darting between two faces he knows, and two faces he doesn’t. “I’ll be keeping my own company,” he says, guarded and firm. “Tsukasa. If you want to keep mine, you’re invited.”

“Yuzuru,” Eichi calls, sounding disappointed. “I want him to come with us.”

“Yes, sir, by all means. Now run,” Tsukasa quietly says, taking one step backwards, eyes on Eichi and his entourage for a second longer before he takes his own advice, turning on his heel. 

The tall man behind Tori moves like a shadow when the light is flicked to the side, leaping across space as if it poses no barrier, knives glinting between his fingers. He lands in front of Tsukasa and Leo on the road, a polite expression on his face. “Apologies, my lords. Please join us for the remainder of the journey.”

Leo takes a deep breath, then darts forward, as quickly as he can, relying on his own natural speed. He feels the sudden icy score of a knife as one lashes out, grazing his upper arm and shoulder as he runs past. Another flicks out to land at his feet, and he twists, dodging just in time, his cloak billowing behind him. Two more knives lash out, and Leo ducks, sheathing his sword only to draw a small crossbow, firing over his shoulder at Tori and the Emperor in a wild gambit.

Startlingly, it works, the shadow breaking off and flitting back to his master’s side, checking Tori all over for wounds. “My lord, are you all right? Are you well? Did the bolt graze you? Show me, lift your arms, turn around for me--”

“Run, Tsukasa,” Leo hisses, grabbing Tsukasa’s arm and yanking him down the road.

Tsukasa spares a wild glance over his shoulder—not only is Yuzuru distracted by the possibility of Tori’s injuries, but so is Eichi, fretting and petting him over thoroughly. “I never thought that would work so _effectively_ ,” he breathes, hand still on his sword as they run, quickly leaving the Emperor and his entourage behind. “Rest in pieces, Himemiya.”

Leo snorts under his breath. “Where’s your horse? We can both fit on one, and you’re not a fast runner.”

“That’s…that’s not true! I’ve been having a bad week.” Tsukasa hesitates, checking their surroundings as he catches his breath. “Here,” he says, distracted enough to actually grab Leo’s arm and steer him down a side street, then up another, where a number of travelers have clearly tethered their horses outside of an upscale brothel. 

“Ah, Milord, you’ve returned,” a young attendant says. “Are you and your friend going inside, or—“

Tsukasa flips a coin at him to shut him up, unties his horse himself—a tall, athletic beast that clearly looks like it’s made for the hunt—and swings up into the saddle, offering Leo his hand. “Behind me. Where are you headed?” 

“The Capital,” Leo says shortly, swinging up behind Tsukasa and gripping him from behind, the motion so familiar after years of riding with Izumi. “You’re a good kid, Tsukasa. What are you doing in a place like this?”

“Riding _away_ from the capital.” Tsukasa spurs his horse, and it springs immediately forward, cutting down the cobbled streets and to the main road in no time. He finally allows himself to breathe at that point, and take stock of _who,_ exactly, is clinging to him from behind. “Your Highness—we can’t go back to the capital right now.” 

Leo holds up his hand, showing off the strip of cloth tied around his wrist. “I don’t have a choice. I’ve sworn blood vengeance.”

“For…for who?” Tsukasa doesn’t slow his horse even once they’re on the main road, wanting to put as much distance as possible between the town and the possibility of the Emperor chasing them. 

“For a bastard page that no one else is going to avenge.”

Tsukasa’s mouth opens, then shuts, and he heaves a sigh, hanging his head. Finally, he does slow his horse, and she tosses her head, snorting loudly in frustration at not being allowed to run. “Your Highness…ah…I hate to be the one to correct you, but I must. Lord Izumi isn’t dead.” 

Blood pounds in Leo’s ears. He blinks, unseeing the area around him, as music starts to play in his mind. “Explain,” he manages, voice tight and not a little threatening. “Now.”

“He isn’t dead.” Tsukasa hesitates, and he glances around, anxiety making him that much more paranoid. “In fact, the last I was informed, he was en route to High Harbor. He was brought to the research facility within the capital and smuggled out, apparently. I’m afraid I don’t know all of the details, but I do know that he’s alive.” 

“Your sources? I know a prince should take a noble’s word, but forgive me if my trust is in short supply these days.” Leo hesitates, then adds, “I’ve always liked you, even loved you, for being a good person and a righteous knight. I want to know I was right.”

“L…l…oved me?” Tsukasa’s heart thumps too-hard in his chest, and he swallows, grateful that Leo can’t see how hot his face suddenly is. Oh, this is _no_ good. “Y…your Highness, I—ah—Himemiya was right!” He has no choice but to blurt that out, his face burning. “I was running away—a-after the king announced your death, they were frantic to find heirs, and I…your father…he _insisted_ that I marry your sister! Of course I wanted to refuse, but I couldn’t, my entire family would be dishonored, but I can’t block your path to the throne, I can’t, so I ran—I was on my way to High Harbor to meet you, and Sir Arashi, and subsequently Sir Ritsu as well—we’re in a blood pact, you see, along with Lord Izumi, so I’m truly bound to your name!” 

A blood pact.

_If the pact hasn’t been broken, Izumi can’t be dead._

But more importantly--

“They were going to have you marry my sister? My _little_ sister? My precious Ruka? Ahh, I was going to take my ribbon off, but now I’m going to have to kill my father, wahahaha!” 

Delight suffuses him, and he hugs Tsukasa hard around the middle, burying his face in his shoulder. “Then let’s go to High Harbor. And you can tell me why you were in that _particular_ brothel. And if I’m satisfied, I might let you marry my precious Ruka--in a decade or so.”

“N…not to be rude, Your Highness, but I think that’s rather private information,” Tsukasa insists, his face still flaming. It’s unfortunate that Ruka—small, quiet, shy Ruka—is _far_ from the type of woman that he likes, but Leo is very much the kind of _man_ that appeals to his senses. It’s very unfortunate, and that’s going to make this a difficult ride. 

“Private? When I’m cuddled up to your arse and you’re trying to become my baby brother?” Leo laughs, tightening his arms around Tsukasa. “High Harbor is a day’s ride away, sure you don’t want to talk about something to warm up in the cold?”

“I’m not trying to become your baby brother! I ran away so I wouldn’t!” That sounds bad, actually. Tsukasa winces. “I mean—it’s not that I don’t think your sister is adorable, she is, truly, and it’s not like I wouldn’t be _honored_ —“ 

“There’s no one cuter in the whole realm,” Leo says firmly. “I still haven’t decided if anyone is allowed to marry her.”

“I don’t want to marry your little sister. I mean. I would be honored.” Tsukasa exhales a strangled sound. 

“You know,” Leo says cheerfully, tightening his arms, leaning forward a little, “for a while, I thought it was _me_ you wanted to cozy up to. You shoot me a lot of cute little looks.”

Tsukasa’s horse bolts underneath them, courtesy of Tsukasa’s legs tightening _firmly_ against her sides. Reflex, that’s reflex, when there’s someone _so_ pretty against his back, breathing against his neck, and it’s the _prince_ , which is a dozen times worse. Horrified at his own reaction, Tsukasa reins his horse in, staring _straight_ ahead. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he lies. “Your Highness, you’re being highly inappropriate.” 

“When I’m king,” Leo says grumpily, releasing Tsukasa’s waist, “it’ll be illegal to lie so much. Be honest about yourself, be honest about your feelings, that’s the part of you I like! This stuffiness is _booooooring_.”

_Nooo, go back to hugging me, damn it._ “Your Highness, with all due respect,” his traitorous mouth says anyway, “being honest about that sort of thing in the capital is a good way to destroy one’s standing in one fell swoop.” 

“Oh, shit, did we get to the capital already?” Leo asks incredulously, looking around at the deserted forest. “Why didn’t you tell me, I’d have gotten off this horse!”

“You know, being so fucking sarcastic isn’t charming,” Tsukasa snaps, already at the end of his rope. Leo _always_ does a good job of pushing his buttons in one way or another. “I’m attempting to be _polite_ , Your Highness, and not allow my own affection come in the way of a professional relationship!” 

“Ooh, do we have a professional relationship?” Leo teases. “And here I thought you were just planning a coup by using my name, without asking my permission. Ah, what a shame, I thought you were actually loyal to me without asking for anything in return...”

“I…I’m not asking for anything, you’re misunderstanding again! Please don’t phrase it as if _I_ am the one planning the coup—while I support the mentality in this particular situation, I can’t take credit. That would be Lord Izumi.” 

“Of course it would,” Leo mutters under his breath. He sits back, squirming back on the horse to put more room between the two of them. “If you’re not going to have fun conversation, sing to entertain me or something. You’re bad companionship.”

“I’m perfectly fine companionship, _you’re_ the one that’s difficult,” Tsukasa exasperatedly shoots back. His lips purse, frustrated as per usual when he’s around Leo, but he finally, nervously volunteers, “We met properly in the North, months ago. I rode at Sir Arashi’s request, actually, to meet him. It’s not often that Sir Arashi recommends a man so highly.” 

Leo’s chest puffs up slightly. “Of course he did. Izumi is a great man. He’s smart and strong and fast and kind, you know? He’s going to be the captain of my Kingsguard.” He turns, yanking the blood vengeance ribbon off his wrist. If Izumi is actually dead, he’ll have to tie two of them, one for his uncle and one for Tsukasa. “Blood pact, huh? So you must know him _very_ intimately.”

“No,” Tsukasa blurts out, panicked in an instant. “Absolutely not, we, ah, we did the other option.” 

Leo rides in silence for a long moment. Then, trying to keep a straight face, he says, “Oh. You’re very frightening and powerful, then. I should have been more wary, you’re obviously quite, ah, ruthless. To kill a child rather than have sex with a few attractive men...yes, clearly you’re a force to be reckoned with, I’m very impressed, that _definitely_ sounds like Izumi.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t mock me, Your Highness. It’s very troubling to realize that I can’t win no matter what answer I give you.” 

“Hmm, that sounds like the kind of thing you should have thought of before you did something you were ashamed of.”

“I—“ Tsukasa fumbles, then frowns. “At the time,” he carefully says, “I was not ashamed of it. I was unaware that you and Lord Izumi were…” He flutters a hand, unsure if he should say it _out loud_ , even if no one is around to witness it. “I’m uninterested in offending you, Your Highness. Having those kinds of relations with your, ah, lover apparent, that sort of thing…” 

“Ehh, is that what you think of me?” Pretending to be offended by Tsukasa is fun, and always has been. “Ahh, I didn’t think I said anything like that, did he say we were like that?”

“He, ah—“ It’s hard not to panic and think that he has absolutely gotten the wrong impression, when Leo teases him like this—but he’s _sure_ about this, he _is!_ “He said your name, Your Highness. On multiple occasions.” 

Leo, startled when he’s been the one teasing, feels his face flushing. “He...he did? Ah...” 

He thunks his forehead against Tsukasa’s back. “Now I’m embarrassed.”

_Yes, success!_ Please to finally have some of his own back, Tsukasa sits a bit straighter. “Yes, Your Highness. He did. Thank you for confirming that it wasn’t just afantasy of his, and that you two truly are involved. I’ll admit, I was curious.” 

“He’s wonderful,” Leo mumbles against Tsukasa’s shoulder, feeling flustered. “I’ve loved him since I was a page. How silly is your prince, you think?”

_Oh, no, he’s very cute_. This is unfortunate—Tsukasa always _thought_ Leo was cute, but this is another side of him that’s troubling. “Fairly silly,” he murmurs, heaving a light sigh. “But I don’t mind. From the time I spent with Lord Izumi, he seemed…ah…well, he was a bit drunk, but he still was enjoyable to be around.”

“He’s good, isn’t he? He’s a funny drunk.” Leo’s tone is wistful, and he wraps his arms back around Tsukasa, because it’s easier than remembering that they’re empty. “I thought he was dead. I was going to kill my own uncle for him--my father, if I had to. That’s bad for a king...but I’m not king yet, so maybe I can still be a man a bit longer.”

“He’s a touchy drunk, that’s what he is,” Tsukasa mutters, his face flushing a little in memory. Combined with Leo’s arms around him, and he has to shift in his saddle to get more comfortable. “Dirtying your hands isn’t necessary, Your Highness. I understand the compulsion, truly, I do—but rest assured, he is alive…and beyond that, even if he wasn’t, the support behind you will easily deny your father and uncle the throne in the near future. There’s no shortage of unrest, and Lord Izumi has made a number of formidable allies.” His lips purse. “Duke Rodan obviously did not expect that.” 

“He’s always better than everyone expects,” Leo says, and sniffs a little, wiping his nose on Tsukasa’s shirt. “Ahh, isn’t Rodan your great-uncle, too? I know we’re related somehow, you’ve got hints of the damn hair.”

“Please do not wipe your nose on me,” Tsukasa exasperatedly says, fishing out a handkerchief and passing it back. “Duke Rodan is my great-uncle, yes,” he reluctantly says. “We’re related on my father’s side of the family. I…I don’t approve of his actions, not in any way.”

Leo blows his nose noisily, then stuffs his handkerchief into his pocket. “Right, right. Don’t worry, I know family doesn’t mean much. Look at me, and you! We’re related to my father, of all things. Heh...you sure you don’t want me to stay gone? You’d be king in a decade.”

“I absolutely do not want to be king,” Tsukasa firmly says. “That _is_ why I ran away.” He hesitates, then quietly adds, “Among other reasons, of course. Duke Rodan…as you know, his first pick for squire was Lord Izumi. I was his second—and I already had another offer, so I had to turn him down. I’m not exactly his favorite nephew, and I’ve been refusing his other requests over the past few weeks as well, so it’s only going to be more troublesome in the future, if this isn’t all dealt with.” 

“Ahh, so you’ve got all selfish reasons for being part of our little group. That’s good!” Leo beams, shifting around on the back of the horse. “I’m glad you have your own reasons for being part of this. Also, hey, introduce me to your horse.”

“I don’t think it’s selfish to not want to be a puppet for the crown,” Tsukasa grumpily says. “Please sit still, Your Highness. This is Fianna, do try to never stand behind her, she kicks. Capital stock is always terribly moody if they aren’t on a hunt.” 

“She reminds me of you, how adorable. Have you ever met Izumi’s horse? He’s a good boy, not like his master at all.”

“I don’t know what that is supposed to mean, but thank you? Um. I met Lord Izumi’s horse briefly, he tried to eat my dessert. Why are Northern horses _so_ large?” 

“It’s because of all the fat,” Leo confides. “Up in the North, it gets so cold that they need to be insulated.” He pokes Tsukasa in the tummy. “What’s your excuse?”

“I was talking about their _height_ and _stockiness_ , how d-dare you!” Tsukasa hisses, trying not to shriek. In response, his horse bolts sideways, grumpily lashing her tail. “I—I’m very stressed at current, I think t-that explains enough!”

“Be calm, you’ll startle Fianna. Heh, so, is that brothel you were in the kind where they feed you all day?” Leo asks, intent on getting some of his own back now that Tsukasa bothered him about Izumi. “It’s a very _interesting_ plaque they have over the door...do you usually have to go down to the Sandlands for that?”

“Don’t tell me how to ride my own horse! I—how do you even know anything about that?! What were you _doing_ down in the Sandlands?” 

Leo raises his chin. “Obviously, the crown prince has to spend a year in each Dominance. Look forward to that, if I die and you have to become king. Heh, you’d burn in the Sandlands--or you’d spend all your time in a brothel.”

“I know _why_ you were in the Sandlands, but the fact that you know that much about…different brothels…“ Tsukasa’s lips purse. “There’s nothing wrong with appreciating women, especially in moderation. It isn’t as if I spend my time stealing wives in the capital.” 

“No, you spend your time stuffing your face, with apparently more than muffins and clams,” Leo says cheerfully. “We’ve all got bad habits, eh?”

“Yours, apparently, is being unnecessarily nosy and sneaking about to have a scandalous affair with a country page.” 

“Among other personal failings,” Leo agrees, nodding.

Tsukasa opens his mouth to say—well, anything else, if he could _think_ of anything else, but he simply huffs instead, and spurs his horse forward at a faster pace. “I can’t wait to get to High Harbor,” he mutters. “And leave you in his care instead.” 

“Ahh, you’re sick of me already?” Leo pinches Tsukasa again. “Just wait until I’m king, then you’ll be _really_ sick of me. Who did you wind up squiring for, by the way? I don’t remember.”

Tsukasa’s teeth grind together slowly. “…His Excellency Himemiya’s father.”

Leo lets out a low whistle through his teeth. “Right, right. Did that go very poorly? From the way he talks about you...”

“Oh, no, it went very well. Duke Himemiya is a fine man. It’s his son that I can’t stand, the wretched imp.” 

Leo sighs. “He’s basically the worst. He was engaged to my darling sister before he bloomed as a wizard, did you know? I thank the gods every day that he bloomed. You’d be a much better husband for her.”

Tsukasa winces at that. “T…thank you, Your Highness. Your sister is lovely, but—I do hope she finds a different husband. I’m not sure we’re suited for one another.” 

Leo blinks slowly. “You’re the highest-ranked unmarried man and woman in the realm,” he points out. “You like women. She’s smart and attractive. Obviously she’s too young in my mind, but what’s wrong with that match?”

“…shesnottomytaste.”

“Say again?”

“She’s…she’s not to my taste!” _It’s time to die, and that’s fair_ , Tsukasa wearily thinks. “Most of the royal family aren’t, the women of your line are all—very slight, and slender, and of course they’re beautiful, b-but when it comes to women, that’s not…exactly…” 

Belatedly, Leo remembers the plaque outside the brothel he’d found Tsukasa in--the incredibly curvy lady, with bosoms larger than her head. “But...you slept with Izumi. He’s tiny.”

“…Men are. Ah. The opposite?” It’s getting harder and harder to keep talking, when he’s blushing this much. “So. Shorter and tiny and slender and…and with long hair, preferably.”

“Oh? Haha! I’m surprised you can keep it in your breeches around me, then!”

Tsukasa clears his throat. “I _am_ a gentleman, thank you very much.” 

Leo grins, and shifts forward again, hooking his chin over Tsukasa’s shoulder. “So, tell me about your women. That’s a more neutral topic, right? Do you have a sweetheart on retainer that you go visit every so often?”

“Is it really so neutral when I’m betrothed to your sister?” Tsukasa wryly asks, but he glances down, relenting. “I…mm. In High Harbor, actually. There’s a woman I’ve pursued since I was a page. She’s, ah, much older than me, I’m afraid. I’m certain it’ll never work out, but that doesn’t mean we don’t see one another when we can.” 

Leo pokes his waist again, more gently this time. “I always like hearing about love,” he says softly. “It’s not the same as betrothal, I know that. I’m no wilting maiden. So tell me about this lady, since you already know all about the one who has my heart.”

“A man never shares his lady’s secrets,” Tsukasa huffs, but the urge to talk about it overwhelms him, and he can’t help but say, “She has the _largest_ tits I’ve ever seen. Do you—I have to ask, do you favor women at all, Your Highness?” 

Leo grins, hearing the stuffiness drop, and the real person actually come out of Tsukasa of the Suou house. “I like tits as much as anyone,” he admits. “It’s only that I’ve always felt that as the prince, I should be, mm, more circumspect, since any bastard might put the whole country’s future in trouble. I love hearing stories about them, though. How big, a handful? Or more like the lady on that place’s plaque?”

“Gods, that must be difficult.” Tsukasa, admittedly, understands—he has to be _very_ careful with who he does deign to touch. “Even in brothels, I’m conscious of the same thing, though…looking is usually enough, you know? But with this woman…” His eyes glaze. “More than that plaque. She puts all of them to shame, and the corsets she wears make it all the more apparent. Ahh, I feel terrible, running from the capital to see her, but…at the same time, it lined up with all of this other mess,” he admits. “So here I am.” 

“She sounds enchanting,” Leo says frankly. “Is she your mistress, or another man’s wife, or a working lady? Tsukasaa, tell me about her, I’ve got to believe in love again.”

“I would never sleep with another man’s wife,” Tsukasa says, offended. “She’s…she’s from a well-to-do merchant family. But not so well-to-do that she’s pressured to marry, you know? It’s convenient for both of us. Her family put her aside when she had a child out of wedlock, and she’s climbed the rungs of High Harbor society with her own expertise.” He hesitates, then says, embarrassed, “This coat that you wiped your nose on, that’s some of her handiwork.” 

“Oh, it’s very nice,” Leo says, as if he can tell the difference between one coat and another. “She sounds like a firecracker of a woman--I hope she keeps you in line as much as you keep her in your heart!” He tightens his arms, giving Tsukasa a firm hug as if they’re close friends rather than near-strangers sharing a horse.

“She…she does.” Tsukasa says nothing for a moment, then quietly adds, “It pains me that you need a reason to believe in love again, Your Highness. If you wish it, we can ride through the night to High Harbor, and you can be there the moment he arrives.” 

“I shouldn’t do that to you...but I’ve already considered leaving you when you stop for the night and running the rest of the way myself,” Leo admits. “I don’t doubt that he loves me, but...in his own way, you know? I know he’s eager to have a hundred others between his legs. News of such things starts to wear on a person, after a while. I’ve only...I haven’t even kissed anyone else.”

“Ah. I see. Please do not run the rest of the way yourself. We can ride through the night.” Tsukasa heaves a sigh, and nudges his horse forward, which she immediately leaps to, picking herself up to a brisk, but smooth canter. “If it makes you feel better at all, he _won’t_ shut up about you, and I’ve never heard him utter a single other word about any other lover.” 

Leo tucks his cheek against Tsukasa’s shoulder, pulling himself close. “It does,” he says softly. “He’s...not a normal person. He’s _more_. You’ve met him. You understand, don’t you? I’ve never met someone that burns so bright inside.”

“I have.” Tsukasa feels his face flush again, and it has nothing to do with the cold whipping against it. “You, Your Highness. You’re more than a match for him, I’m afraid. I…I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” 

Leo lights up, and he gives Tsukasa’s shoulder a bite through his riding leathers, as he’d do if it were Izumi behind him. “Hmm, well! You’re very cute, aren’t you? I’m going to keep you close when I’m king, you’re good to have around. That is, if I don’t assign you to High Harbor.”

“Did…did you just bite me?” Tsukasa manages, aghast and, unfortunately, sort of finding it pleasant. “I…would be honored, of course, Your Highness. You might want to have a conversation with Lord Izumi, however, as he already promised me a place on his Kingsguard, and this sounds like some conflict of interest.” 

“Did he? How rude of him. Then you’ll just have to move your lady to the Capital. And yes, I’ll bite you whenever I like, you’re good to hold on to with the mouth.”

Tsukasa, not knowing what to say to that at _all_ , simply urges his horse to go faster. With the prince, going _faster_ seems to be the right choice, more often than not. 

“Are you scared of me, Tsukasa?” Leo asks, drawing back slightly. “You don’t need to worry, your honor is safe with me.”

“I’m far more concerned about your honor, thank you!” 

“Oh? You’ve got designs on your prince’s arse?”

“I already told you, I’m a gentleman.” And I am absolutely not going there after seeing the look in Lord Izumi’s eyes when I mentioned how beautiful you were, thank you very much!

_“Ah, excellent. Then you don’t need to worry about my honor.”_

“Of course not,” Tsukasa grinds out, hunching forward over his horse’s neck. “Please hold tightly to me, Your Highness. Fianna’s sire was the winner of the king’s races two years back. I’ll have us to High Harbor in no time.” 

“Ooh, excellent.” Leo hunkers down, and holds as tightly as is possible without causing Tsukasa pain, laying over his back. “Lucky I’m light. Be swift, noble Fianna!” He whickers gently in Horse.


	19. Chapter 19

Subaru, the captain of the personal guard to High Harbor’s ruling house, refuses the idea of taverns and towns, and keeps to the most deserted backroads that Izumi has seen in quite some time. 

It’s not a poor decision, but that doesn’t mean Izumi has to like it. The weather is cold, but not inhospitable—but that isn’t the issue. The _issue_ is his deep desire for a comfortable bed for the first time in god’s know how long, and it seems he’ll be waiting yet to have one once again. 

They’re barely another twelve hours from High Harbor, but the sun starts to peek up through the trees. Traveling at night has taken a toll on all of them except for Ritsu, who is unnaturally skilled at navigating it, and unnaturally energetic during those hours. Another unnatural feature of his—falling asleep when the sun rises, sometimes clear off of his horse, and Izumi, no matter his restlessness, no matter his desire to keep going those last twelve hours and _finally_ reach his lover and friends again, has no choice but to relent to the idea of stopping again. 

They stop far from the road, deep within the woods, with a last cloak of shelter and darkness cast over them for a proper sleep. Ritsu is already snoring, Subaru is already dozing, and Makoto is already rolled into a heap of blankets. Izumi takes it upon himself to sneak away, the sound of moving water so close that he can’t resist the chance to _bathe._

The stream is freezing cold, but that’s a relief. He pulls himself out only once he feels his toes start to go numb, and towels himself dry with his own blanket before quietly making his way back to their little camp. Thoughtlessly, he collapses down next to Makoto, burying himself into his chest. It’s safer this way, of course. His new sword—a decent enough blade, tossed to him by Subaru when they left—is within arm’s reach.

“You smell good.” 

Makoto’s voice is drowsy, but more content than usual, snuggled up to Izumi in the early morning light. Izumi usually smells good, but that’s probably because he bathes more than anyone Makoto has ever met, more than most people he knows put together. Subaru turns over, snorting in his sleep, completely naked under a horse blanket with one leg thrown out. Makoto buries his face in Izumi’s hair, blinking slowly. “Get warm with me.”

Makoto is warm, but not overly so, and it’s a welcome reprieve from the chill that wants to permeate his bones. He’d rather be cold than hot any day, but another person’s body heat is different and appealing, especially when it belongs to someone with a careful, gentle touch that he’s relied upon…perhaps too much, as of late. 

Izumi crawls his way underneath the blanket, turning so that his back is to Makoto’s chest, their legs tangling as he nestles back. “My feet are cold, sorry,” he murmurs. All of him is, but no one likes a cold hand or foot shoved against them, honestly. 

“S’allright.” Makoto spoons up behind Izumi, arms around his waist, smiling to himself. “Just don’t move back unless you want to start something.”

It was supposed to be a joke. He hadn’t really counted on how hesitant and anticipatory it sounds from his mouth.

Izumi pauses.

He’s a wizard, you’re an idiot. There’s a cloak, we’re safe. But still… 

_Admittedly, this hasn’t been the first thing on his mind in the past couple of weeks._

Of course, he had kissed Makoto, but Makoto had kissed him first. Izumi shifts, contemplative, turning his head back to catch a glimpse of Makoto’s face. “Do you want me to?” he lowly asks before he can bite his tongue. 

“I...” 

Makoto isn’t good with words. His hand shifts, splayed out on Izumi’s belly, and he licks his lips. “You have a lover, don’t you?”

It isn’t a _no_.

“He knows how I am.” _And the second I’m back at his side, he won’t be able to get rid of me._ That’s the truth, and encouraged by that thought, by Makoto’s fingers splaying against his stomach, Izumi shifts again, languidly arching his back. He can feel that weird underwear, how obnoxious, and he rolls his eyes. “You’re free now, you shouldn’t be wearing that nonsense.” 

“I don’t know how to take it off,” Makoto admits. “They make it complicated on purpose, and I’ve always had attendants to help.” Nervous, but hungry, Makoto shifts forward, brushing a kiss against Izumi’s neck. “I can still make you feel good, if you want me to.”

“Huh, seriously? No way, it’s coming off, I’ve seen wizards do it before.” Izumi twists in Makoto’s arms, frowning. “I can totally figure this out,” he mutters, already working on Makoto’s robes. “I mean, it’s not going back on after this, just so you know.”

“B-but what if I get hard?” Makoto whispers, horrified, but already feeling his body respond to Izumi’s hands on him. “Someone could see! I haven’t learned to control it like other men!”

“Then you get hard,” Izumi drawls, leaning up to suck on the front of Makoto’s throat as he sticks his hands underneath those robes, and finds the first round of lacing to start plying apart. “And you either ignore it, take care of it yourself, or stick it in someone, like any other man.” 

Makoto bites his lip, eyes flicking away from Izumi, landing on Subaru’s exposed leg. No, best not to focus on that, that makes him hard too, and he gasps in pain as his cock starts firming against the rounded spikes on the inside of his plate. “I’ve...got the training one,” he grunts, clenching his teeth. “Please don’t--move it around, the spikes...”

“Gods, that’s fucked up,” Izumi bluntly mutters, yanking at another round of laces. How many are there is a good question, but he’s _going_ to figure this out. “I’ll stop chewing on you until it’s off, okay? Then everything will just feel good.” 

His fingers slide lower, seeking out some of the straps and laces that are lower, around Makoto’s waist and hips, hoping that loosening that mess will at _least_ give Makoto a bit of breathing room. “There we are…I can’t believe the shit that they put wizards through, it’s ridiculous.” 

Makoto’s smile is strained. “You don’t need to go through all this trouble,” he mumbles, turning to hide his face. “I’m so sure it won’t be worth it, you’ll just be disappointed, you’re so lovely...”

Izumi snorts. “You can let me decide that, thanks. Yuukun…” He hesitates, but his fingers don’t stop, working through every single bit of lacing until the straps actually start to loosen and fall away from Makoto’s body. “I’m not sure what you think I expect. I know you’re a wizard, I know you haven’t done this before. I really don’t care. It’s fine if we just try to feel good, even if it’s only for a little while.” 

Makoto nods shakily, then offers, “I think the next layer is behind me, they put it where it’s hard to reach. I’m sorry, it’s so much trouble, I just...” He drags a hand down his face, trying to do as his teachers have always said and focus on the shame of wanting to get it off. That usually quells his arousal--but they hadn’t counted on Izumi, looking so determined to get to his prize. Without thinking about it, he starts whispering the litany to himself. “It’s not important, I’m not important, I don’t deserve this, I’m disgusting for wanting this, I’m a brain and not a body, real wizards don’t need this...”

“Shh, shh, Yuukun, it’s fine, I swear, it’s fine…” 

He’d promised not to put his mouth back on Makoto until he was finished getting everything off, but…he hadn’t counted on Makoto sounding like that. Izumi leans up again, nuzzling into the crook of Makoto’s neck, lightly biting, then sucking on the first bit of skin he can get his teeth into as he wriggles his arms around, petting down Makoto’s back until he finds those awkwardly placed laces and starts untying them, too. “When it’s off, you can do whatever you want to me, whatever you’ve been thinking of,” he murmurs, eyes lidded. “I _know_ you’ve been thinking about it.”

Makoto bites his bottom lip until he thinks he’ll bite through it. “There are other people nearby,” he whispers, feeling his cock start to press against those spikes again and just deciding to endure it, since there’s no way it’ll go down when Izumi sounds like that, looks like that, is touching him like that. “We’ll have to be quiet. I...you’re right, I’ve been thinking about it.”

“Mmhm, we have to be quiet, but that’s okay. You can always gag me,” Izumi lowly teases, his eyes glittering as he feels another strap loosen. Excellent, closer, _closer_. “Or just flip me over and push my face down and let me bury my face in your cloak while you do me. Ahh, but you’ve thought about it, so you know what you want to do.” 

“Lord Izumi, please, this hurts so much,” Makoto says through gritted teeth. He wants to reach down and help, but Izumi’s already gotten farther than Makoto ever has with the laces, so he just brings his fist up, biting into it. “Just--yes, I’m going to get you on your belly, you’re so _round_ from behind.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m trying, this shit’s annoying. Yes, I know, I have a woman’s ass,” Izumi grouses, his eyes flicking sideways to his sword, more and more tempted by the moment to take his chances and slice through whatever strange leather this mess is made out of by the minute. Finally, he finds a particularly tight knot, right in the middle of Makoto’s back, impossible for any human that isn’t a contortionist to reach by himself. He has to wiggle it apart with his fingernails, but opening that knot and loosening those laces suddenly makes the entire system of straps loosen and slump from Makoto’s body. “I think I broke a nail on that, damn it.” 

Makoto grabs the spiked plate and throws it into the woods, surging forward to knock Izumi down to his back, kissing him hard--sloppy, inaccurate, unpracticed, but hard and hungry, hands fisted in hair like moonlight, yanking him close. He kneels above Izumi, knees pressed into the soft fabric of his cloak, too eager to bother flipping him over just yet, drinking in the sensation of his cock being _free_ , rubbing it against Izumi’s creamy thigh, little whimpers dragged from his throat.

It’s not like Izumi could have hoped for a better, more enthusiastic reaction. 

Still—it’s so _unlike_ Makoto that for a moment, Izumi’s head reels. A new, uncomfortable reflex makes him seize up, wary when his hair is grabbed and pulled, nervous when he’s shoved down—but he forces himself to breathe, slow and long through his nose, smelling Makoto and nothing _bad_ , feeling the warm, solid weight of his body and nothing more, and Izumi slinks back down, still-trembling hands circling around to grab at Makoto’s back, fingers sinking into his skin. “E…easy, easy,” he finally manages to gasp, turning his head aside to avoid Makoto’s mouth against his own, just for a moment. His voice is a little shaky, too, but he swallows, and that goes away. “If you need to come once just rubbing on me, that’s fine, but you better be able to get it back up again.” 

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I’ve never--”

Makoto channels an enormous effort of will, then pulls back, swallowing hard. He looks down at Izumi--shaken, confused, obviously taken aback--and remembers how so many of his teachers had told him he’d be a monster as a lover, not good enough, far behind everyone else. _No, Lord Izumi doesn’t think that._

He takes a deep breath, then rolls onto his back, tugging Izumi on top of him. “Would you...ride me, the first time?” he asks softly. “I don’t want to lose control. And I do want to watch you.”

Izumi wobbles a little, but huffs out a relieved breath, grabbing the kicked aside blanket to pull that over himself—and Makoto, by proxy. “Yuukun really has had some ideas, huh?” he murmurs, his gaze flicking sideways to Ritsu’s belt, tossed aside and more or less within reach. He stretches forward to snag it, and specifically, one of the leather pouches hanging off it. “This kinda thing is always much sexier with long hair,” he grouses, leaning back once he has his prize, a very helpful bottle of oil. “Sorry, Yuukun.” 

“You’re always sexy, though?” Makoto squeaks, hands coming up to brush over Izumi’s thighs, a shiver rippling through him that seems to redouble when he realizes how easy it is to _feel_ those feelings, cock standing free in the air. “Ah...I’m not even sure it works right, I wouldn’t really....know...”

“It’s working juuust fine, trust me.” Izumi grabs one of Makoto’s hands as he uncorks the bottle of oil, and idly dumps half of it over his fingers. “Here, you can do something for me.” 

He drags Makoto’s hand around, guiding those now-slick fingers to slide down the cleft of his ass, then a bit lower against his hole. He shivers, tense, trembling faintly and bracing his other hand against Makoto’s shoulder when his knees threaten to wobble again. “You should get me ready for you,” Izumi breathes. “Slide a finger inside, you can feel how hot it is.” 

“It won’t fit.” Makoto is sure of that, feeling how tightly Izumi is clenched, trailing his fingertip over the puckered muscle, wondering at the tight clench of it. His other hand stabilizes on Izumi’s thigh, squeezing harder than he’d intended as he looks up, eyes shining. “I never thought I’d be doing something like this.”

“It’ll fit, it’ll fit—ahh, c’mon, Yuukun, take care of me,” Izumi softly whines, tipping himself forward. He buries his face into Makoto’s neck, breathing out a quick, hot breath when pressing down like that traps Makoto’s cock between them, and makes his own twitch, more than just vaguely, half-heartedly pleased with all of this, _finally_. “If you don’t finger me and make me feel good, I’m gonna be mad,” he breathes, his teeth gently catching against an earlobe. “Please?” 

“Sorry if this hurts,” Makoto whispers, and pushes a finger in. Much to his surprise, it slides in easily, and everything around his finger is tight and hot and wet. “Oh...oh, Emperor’s holy books,” he breathes, pupils blown so wide he can hardly see, sliding another finger in without being told. “I have no idea if this feels good to you, but it feels _great_ to me.”

Izumi clamps a hand down over his mouth, stifling a rasping groan that escapes from low in his throat. His back arches automatically, his hips pressing down, seeking more, seeking another angle that he knows will feel even better—but even this is good, making him shivery and pleased and _warm_. “It…it feels good,” he gasps into his hand, rocking back slowly against Makoto’s hand. “Nnn, just…just slide them in, nice and deep, just like that, ah, fuck.” Trying to keep his voice down is easier said than done, and Izumi bites down on a frustrated growl. “If you…c-curl them a little, I…” 

Uncertainly, Makoto curls his fingers as instructed, feeling different textures slide over his fingertips, feeling his mouth fall open as he shivers, stroking and thrusting them in. His other hand creeps farther towards the front, thumb hesitantly brushing against Izumi’s cock as he sucks in a breath. “It’s so hard,” he murmurs, fingers pushing in farther when his focus shifts. “It’s so...manly?”

_What did you expect?_ Izumi wants to bite out, but instead, a strangled noise leaves his throat, and his forehead thunks down against Makoto’s shoulder. His cock twitches and drips underneath the attention, and it’s even better— _worse?_ —when Makoto’s fingers curl just right. It’s purely by accident, but Izumi does _not_ care, not when it feels so good that his eyes roll back, and his cock throbs, a steady stream dripping from it. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me come before you even get it in me,” he whispers, his hands trembling as he searches for where he dropped the bottle of oil. “T…take your fingers out, I need your cock in me before I die.” 

Makoto almost apologizes, but bites his tongue. That’s probably not what Izumi wants to hear, not now. He draws his hand back, hands fluttering at his sides as he looks up, helpless but hungry. “Show me how to do it,” he whispers. “I want to make you feel so good, all right? As long as I can look at you...” _I’ll be satisfied._

“You can look at me all you want,” Izumi says with a breathless little laugh, tipping over the rest of the oil into his hand before he slides it up the length of Makoto’s cock. He’s ginger with his touch—Makoto looks and feels hair trigger, so help them both. His body feels unhappily empty when Makoto’s fingers are no longer in him, but fortunately, Makoto’s not exactly _small._ It’s a pleasant surprise, even if the lingering tension in his body makes him want to think otherwise. “Yuukun—hold me here to steady me, while I get it in,” he murmurs, pulling Makoto’s hands to his waist before his fingers curl delicately around Makoto’s cock, rocking himself up onto his knees. “You don’t have to do much, just…let me take my time. You’re not small, heh.” 

“I’m not?” Makoto looks down, and sees his own cock for the first time in years. Seeing it makes him groan, as it’s so lewd, so exposed, and Izumi is looking at it, _touching_ it, and that makes him gulp at the air. “I mean, you’re so--is it really going to fit? It’s so nice in you, Lord Izumi, I just want...” 

He doesn’t know how to articulate it, so he just curls his hands around Izumi’s hips, trying to hold him up as best as he can, eyes traveling over every part of him.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Izumi breathlessly reassures him, even though his breath hiccups, catching in his throat when he readjusts to pull Makoto’s cock to his hole. It’s hard and _heavy_ in his hand, and he licks his lips, a shuddery little exhale making his chest heave when he first rocks down, and feels how just the head of Makoto’s cock stretches him. 

It’s enough that his knees buckle, and he sinks down faster than he anticipated, but that’s good, too, because it leaves him feeling stretched and full and overstimulated all at once. It gives him less time to think about it, and that’s ideal right now, when Makoto’s cock just feels _good_ , and it’s much easier to fall back into old habits, wriggling down until their skin sticks together and sweat drips from his hairline. Izumi pants hard, his arms trembling where he braces himself against Makoto’s chest, his fingers scraping against bare skin. “Ah…f-fuck, Yuukun…” 

If this is what sex is like, Makoto suddenly understands why the Academy is determined to limit wizards’ exposure to it. Magic is tied to emotion, and with what’s coursing through his body right now, he doesn’t doubt that he could level a city, were he so inclined. His hips twitch up helplessly, burying his cock a little deeper every time, rocking in and stealing his breath. “Izumi,” he breathes, forgetting his title for once. Izumi’s fingers are cool and demanding on his chest, and Makoto wants, he wants so _badly_ to give him everything he wants, even if Makoto doesn’t know what that is. “You’re...so...”

Izumi bites his lip, _hard_. It shuts him up for a moment, but not permanently, not when it feels good every single time Makoto’s cock shoves up deeper into him. There’s nothing practiced about it, nothing deliberate, but that’s probably what makes it feel so good—Makoto doesn’t fucking know any better, and he’s _still_ taking care of him. “’s good, isn’t it?” he pants out, lifting a hand to reflexively pull his hair down when he moves—but there’s no tail there, and he instead shoves his sweaty bangs out of his face. His thighs tremble when he grinds down as far as he can, squeezing down around Makoto’s cock when he can feel it throb inside of him. It takes his breath away, making his eyes flutter shut. “You…ah…” Words fail him, and instead, Izumi just grabs for one of Makoto’s hands dragging it up to his mouth, sucking his thumb past his lips to both cover the fact he can’t _think_ right now, and to shut himself up.

In a world that made sense, Makoto thinks dimly that he’d probably have come by now, spilled into Izumi’s waiting body the second he got inside--that’s what all the jokes say, that men who have never done it are easy and don’t take long. If anything, Makoto is sure he’s _too_ stimulated, between the way Izumi squeezes down around him and the way he sucks on Makoto’s thumb, between the way they rock frantically together and the cute little noises Izumi breathes out, between the slick heat on his cock and the sight of Izumi’s abs flexing with every rock of his hips. Makoto smothers a groan with his other hand, and shoves his thumb farther into Izumi’s mouth, too-hard and unable to stop. “So good,” he agrees, feeling as if his whole body is on fire underneath the skin. “Want to stay...forever, I’ve got to--”

The noise Izumi makes is low and wet, sloppy around Makoto’s thumb. He clutches at Makoto’s wrist, not letting him pull it away, _needing_ it at this point to keep himself at least marginally quieter when he fucks himself on Makoto’s cock. He doesn’t bother sliding up all that much now—it feels better just to sink down and stay like that, rocking with eager, urgent rolls of his hips, savoring the way Makoto is so far in him that he can’t breathe, can’t think, pressing and rubbing by accident inside of him so perfectly that his mind starts to blur at the edges—

Izumi chokes on a breath when he spills, whimpering as his body reflexively clenches down tighter. _Now_ it’s too much, with every pulse of his cock reminding him of that, with every tense, trembling muscle reminding him of how _big_ Makoto is inside of him. He sags, panting, barely catching himself with his nails biting into Makoto’s shoulder to hold himself up, his eyes hooded and glazed.

“Lord Izumi,” Makoto groans, accidentally grabbing at Izumi’s mouth with the hand Izumi’s sucking on, hips rolling up in an urgent rhythm, slapping gently against Izumi’s ass every time. _Overwhelmed_ doesn’t begin to describe the feeling, not now, not when every muscle he has feels wrung out, not when every inch of his skin burns, his heart thuds, his mouth is dry, his cock aches. His eyes are pleading, burning, helpless as he ruts up, clinging to Izumi with everything he is, hips slapping in a little harder each time. “I’m--hnn, is it, is it good?”

Izumi swallows hard, dazed, more than a little light-headed, and he helplessly pushes at Makoto’s hand, getting it away from his mouth for at least a second. “T…too good,” he pants out, his eyes fluttering shut as he feels his cock _keep_ dripping, every single thrust of Makoto’s hips wringing out a little bit _more_ out of him. “Ahh…Yuukun…” He’s not doing a good job of showing off right now, but thank the gods, it’s to an audience that doesn’t _care._ “You can…you can do whatever you w-want to me, you feel _so_ good…” 

“I don’t, I don’t know what to do,” Makoto groans, though his body seems to have an idea, with how his hips keep slamming up, burying himself deep inside Izumi with every deep thrust. “How do I--finish, please--”

There’s an anxiety grabbing him, keeping him from going over that final precipice, odd thoughts racing through his mind, questions he’s never had answered--do men like having it in their arses? Is this the right place? Will it be too hot? Will he get pregnant? Is it poisonous? Will he swell up like a balloon? Is there something else I’m supposed to be doing?--and it keeps him back from coming, even as he groans with the pure overstimulated arousal of it all.

_“Y-you can come inside me, it’s fine—“ Izumi’s breath escapes hot and fast, and his hands slide up into Makoto’s hair, petting, stroking, soothing, even though his fingers shake. “I like it like that, I swear,” he promises, swallowing down another, overstimulated noise when Makoto sinks into him harder, deeper. “I—please, Yuukun, it’s t-too much if you don’t…”_

It’s less the permission and more the ragged _please_ that does Makoto in; his hips snap up sharply, and he bites his lip hard when he finally comes, so hard his head throbs, gasping for air when he empties himself as if he’s emptying his entire soul. He collapses back onto his cloak, hands wandering and petting, vague and affectionate over Izumi’s shoulders, his back, his hair. “Ah,” he says softly.”

“Finally,” Subaru says. “Took you long enough, Ukki. Can I go back to sleep now?”

Makoto lets out a yelp, tensing up and squeezing his eyes shut in utter humiliation.

“Sorry,” Izumi mutters half-heartedly in Subaru’s direction, slumping forward into Makoto’s chest with a long, sated sigh. “Don’t get tense, he’s a soldier, it’s not the first time someone’s fucked near him,” he lowly says against Makoto’s ear, hauling the blanket over both of them more firmly now, no matter how sticky and sweaty he feels. “Relax and pet me.” 

Makoto’s hand trembles as it comes up, stroking over Izumi’s hair, trying to calm his racing heart. “Thank you,” he whispers, trying to be more conscientious. “That was, um, incredible.”

“Mm, good. Of course it was.” Izumi exhales a slow breath, his eyes lidding before they slide shut entirely. “Thank you, actually,” he softly says after another moment, self-conscious enough to bury his face back down into Makoto’s neck. “You took good care of me.” 

“Really?” Makoto sighs out a relieved breath, nuzzling into Izumi’s hair. “I still feel like they’re going to come swooping down on us at any moment,” he confesses. “But at least now...I think it would be for something I really would die for on purpose.”

“Ritsu’s too good to let that happen.” Izumi covers Makoto’s mouth with a shaky hand. “Don’t talk about dying right now, I’m not in the mood. Pet me until you fall asleep, or until I fall asleep.” 

Makoto’s hands start petting dutifully, eyes already sliding closed. “That’s...not...gonna...be long...”

“Good.” Izumi shifts, just enough to separate the two of them with a little wince before stretching out. He can handle being sticky, he can’t handle being stuck together. He stifles a yawn into Makoto’s shoulder, and burrows close once more, shutting his eyes. Maybe this time, he’ll actually sleep.


	20. Chapter 20

Keito knocks on Mao’s door, because Mao has been a good pupil. Otherwise, he’d simply have the men with him smash the door down, making use of the element of surprise. But Keito had _invested_ in training Mao--he’d spoken for him at the Council of Enhancement, attesting that he was smart enough, loyal enough to be considered for the council itself, that he could be trusted to be part of the Emperor’s inner circle of attendants. 

Finding out how wrong he is had shaken him, and made the bitterness seep through his veins. Most things just make him cold these days, but this...this had hurt.

Not that he’ll show it, of course. He’ll show the proud, strict face he always does, and do his duty, no matter if parts of it are distasteful or disagreeable. That is the price of order and reason in a world of chaos. “Mao,” he says, knocking again. “There are archers on the window. Open the door.”

It _was_ only a matter of time. That was something Mao knew day one, when he signed a pact with the Demon King. 

It doesn’t make his heart thump any less hard, however. He knows, intimately, what the Academy does to traitors. Taking his chances with the archers might be kinder, because at least they might end up killing him in one shot. 

_There’s always a chance someone might come for you, though._ It’s a vague thought, a too-optimistic one, but Ritsu’s stare had been so intense the night he had left that Mao compulsively believes it, even if it doesn’t make any real sense. 

He strips off his belt, dumps every artifact and enchanted stone out of their pouches in a hurry, and crushes them all underneath his heel—a deliberate, quickly dissolving distress signal. Losing his eyes on the Council right now can’t be good for the Demon King, but at least he can have a last warning about it. 

When finished, Mao opens the door, wrists neatly presented. “Sorry,” he says, because he is, in a way. “I didn’t intend to have you do this.” That part is true, at least.

Keito nods to his guard, who binds Mao’s wrists first with leather, then with magic. “At least you have the decency to know what kind of difficulties you’ve caused me. Do you wish to confess your crimes now, or must I take you to the interrogatorium?”

“I’ll confess, but you’ll find it troublesome.” Mao’s eyes lid. “We’ve been fraternizing with the same undesirables, and I’m not sure if you want to curate what I say or not before it all comes out.” 

Keito’s lips thin, and he nods to his guards. This is better said in privacy. “Then I’ll see you in the interrogatorium.”

The interrogatorium is cold, stone-lined and designed to be uninviting. It’s located at the base of the Academy’s highest tower, one day’s ride from the Capital. It’s designed to break the will of the captives, and Keito spends as little time here as possible. Now, he shuts the door behind him, the guard outside equipped to only open the door for Keito’s secret passphrase. He turns to face Mao, in the cold stone room with no furniture, hands still bound, and pushes up his spectacles. “All right. Say what you intend. Please try to make it be sufficient to appease my superiors. I’d vastly prefer not to use any unsavory methods to obtain the necessary information.”

Mao settles back, his expression unwaveringly set into impassivity. “I’ve been working for the Demon King since I was five years old.” There’s no point in lying. The Academy _will_ get the truth, one way or another, and he’d prefer it to be with his limbs still intact. “I willingly signed into a pact with him. That pact is still active, so you’ll understand some things can’t leave my tongue.” 

Keito takes in a deep breath, and nods. “I’ll have to make an effort. You know that. I can’t go back to Eichi and tell him I didn’t try. What happened to Makoto?”

“Gone. Seduced by the Sena heir.”

“The Sena heir--he lives?” Keito feels a headache starting.

“If you want less of a headache, maybe I should stop listing all of the things you don’t know, sir.” 

Keito glares. “Big talk from a traitor spy. You know the fate that awaits you. Should I tell you in detail, or do you want to continue to enumerate your crimes?”

“Your own associations with the Demon King are more than enough to have you sit in the same spot I am in now, but of course, I can keep going. Where would you like me to start?” 

“My own association,” Keito says warningly, “was a personal matter, and no official secrets were revealed. I assume you are unable to reveal what the Demon King’s plans are--list all of his associates that you’re aware of.”

“But you still willingly associated with him. Isn’t that a crime in its own right?” Mao’s lips purse. “I don’t know what the Demon King’s plans are,” he says honestly. “So even if I could tell you, I wouldn’t be any use there. The only other associates I’ve met with aren’t human. Koga, the Wolf Prince. The Sena heir. The Demon King’s brother.” 

“His brother?” Keito’s voice sharpens, and he opens his notebook, taking notes. “We’ve been tracking him for years, but he slipped his last trackers over a decade ago.”

“I know. He’s smart. You won’t catch him.” 

Keito looks down over the rim of his glasses, heartpangs making him uncomfortable. “Why did you swear to him, all those years ago? What can a dark force of nature have to offer a child?”

Mao’s expression doesn’t change. “Have you missed how skilled I am, sir?” he quietly says. “What other reason is there to swear to the Demon King?” 

“I know you’re skilled. I recruited you myself just a few years later.” Keito adjusts his glasses, trying to swallow his personal feelings. “Did he offer you a place in his empire? Does he want to overthrow the king, the Academy? Who are his proxies, who are the other spies? If you give me enough, I may be able to give you a quick death.”

“I already told you, I don’t know any of his plans. One can assume easily that he finds the Academy distasteful, but I don’t think I need to confess anything for you to know that.” Mao shifts, wriggling his fingers to keep feeling within them. “I already told you everyone I know that works with him.” _Everyone that I can say without you being able to find him immediately._ “And I’m the only spy I know of. Sorry, sir.” 

Never in a hundred years would Keito have expected Mao to be a traitor. That, he supposes, is why everyone hates traitors so much, and why they’re so effective. “If you’re counting on our relationship to preserve you from torture, I’ll have to disappoint you. I do not want to do this. But you’ve seen my methods before. This is your last chance.”

“I’m not counting on it, I assure you.” Mao’s smile is wry. “I know what you have to do to make sure you’re doing your job, sir. I won’t hold it against you, but I do think you need to get better at interrogation. Asking the right questions is most of the job, I think.”

“I am not an interrogator.” Keito’s eyes tighten at the corners. “I asked for this assignment because I...was too sentimental. I wanted to keep you from their tools. Thank you for showing me the error of my ways. I’m sorry it had to come to this.” He turns to leave, rapping on the door and quietly giving the passphrase.

“You should send your forces North.” Mao leans his head back, catching Keito’s gaze a last time as the door opens. “Makoto was from there, too, you know. The Sena heir was heading that way to meet his mother and took him with him. Even a low-level wizard like Makoto is impossibly dangerous if he has a half-blood that can keep him alive indefinitely—so you might want to be careful, you know?” 

Even now, even knowing that Mao is a traitor, even knowing that his first loyalty was never to Eichi or Keito or even the realm, a part of Keito wants to trust him. Mao has always been so dependable--one of the few people in the world that Keito had considered a friend. 

He firms his resolve, leaves the room, and sends in the torturer.


	21. Chapter 21

“I’ve got to go.”

Ritsu makes the announcement abruptly, about two hours before their party reaches High Harbor, pausing his horse in the middle of the road. The sudden flare of magic from the part of his soul that says _Mao_ is abrupt and bright, and he turns his horse around. “Bye.”

Subaru lurches sideways, blocking his way. “Eh? We’ve got to get to High Harbor, you’re cloaking us!”

“Get out of my way or I’ll kill your horse.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Izumi interrupts before Ritsu can do just that, wrenching his own horse around to come next to Ritsu’s side. “What is it? Stop blocking him, he’ll definitely kill your horse,” he warns Subaru. 

Subaru jumps off the horse, putting himself between it and Ritsu, puffed up and annoyed. 

“Mao,” Ritsu says, eyes flitting around, distracted. “He’s in trouble, he got caught. He’ll die if I don’t go save him.”

“Are you trying to head all the way back to the capital? Ritsu…” Izumi hesitates. He gets it, obviously. That’s why he’s been riding like a bat out of hell to High Harbor, but—he’s not the one cloaking them, and he _is_ the one that absolutely had sex with a wizard less than ten hours ago. If _that_ isn’t going to rain hell down on them… “Okay. Is there anything you can do to keep us cloaked until we reached High Harbor, then? Even if it’s temporary—we’ll just ride harder.” 

Ritsu thinks for a moment with every part of his mind not currently at the Academy. “Fine.” He hops off his horse, breathing hard, and lays a hand on the saddle. Magic flows out of him, and he nods. “If you keep hold of the saddle or reins, you’ll be fine.” 

That’s all he has time for before he transforms, black wings unfurling from his back, fangs dripping from his mouth, fingernails sprouting sharp and long, skin drawn pale and gaunt. He launches into the air, flitting faster than he ever could on his horse, all of his skill at cloaking and hiding his true form gone to shield the others.

“Well,” Izumi says calmly, holding firmly to the reins of the horse currently trying to bolt away from him, while his own spooks and rears underneath him, “that just happened. Sounds like we should ride fast.” 

“How am I supposed to hold on to a saddle while I’m riding?” Makoto asks nervously, leaning to the side to grab the saddle’s pommel. His horse shifts nervously, and he pales. “I can barely ride at all...”

“Yeah, no kidding, you suck,” Izumi mutters, releasing his own horse’s reins when he leaps off of his back, hauling himself into the saddle of Ritsu’s horse instead. Ritsu’s horse is high strung and wall-eyed, furious about his master leaving, but Izumi keeps a firm hand on his reins as he grabs for Makoto, pulling him clear off of his horse and into the saddle behind him. “There. Hold onto me, I won’t let you die.” He whirls the horse around, shrugging at Subaru. “You’re human, you don’t need this.” 

“Yep!” Subaru shifts his bandolier, adjusting it so his sword is easier to draw on a moment’s notice. “But we should still ride fast, just in case. Follow me!”

Makoto clings onto Izumi’s waist for dear life, his skills as a rider just about rock bottom, his ass slapping painfully against the saddle with every stride.

Two hours turns to a swift hour and fifteen minutes, _maybe_. 

Down a couple of horses good for little but packing old men around, and they can ride _very_ swiftly. It’s unpleasant all around, and Izumi has honestly had his fill of the neurotic, skinny little racers from the Capital and West. 

Even if Ritsu’s horse is obnoxious to ride, arriving an hour early is worth it. The sun is nowhere close to rising. Izumi reins the beast in, and nearly tips off himself when Makoto’s weight shifts incorrectly for the millionth time when the horse half-rears. “I’m giving you riding lessons, starting _tomorrow_ ,” he grinds out, forcing the horse to go in little circles to calm down in what looks like a massive courtyard. “Neither Shu or Mika were this incompetent, so I know it’s not a wizard thing—you’re giving Northerners a bad name!” 

He finally leaps off of the horse, keeping a tight grip onto his reins, and huffs, irritated and sore and far sweatier than he ever wants to be. “Is this place really safe?” It looks like a run of the mill noble villa, the kind that he’s become accustomed to in the capital, and comparable in wealth to one of the crown’s accessory homes. It seems…too obvious, if he’s being honest, but…

“L…Lord Subaru?” 

The voice that greets them is soft and tiny, and the boy it belongs to—well, it matches. He’s easily half a head shorter than even Izumi, dressed in the clothing of a servant, albeit one of a well-to-do house. A stable boy, specifically, is Izumi’s guess, judging by how his pale, blue-dyed hair is pulled back from his face, the gloves on his hands are well-worn, and the toe of his boots have bits of hay and muck stuck to them. A noble’s stable boy that doesn’t know how to present himself well, _that’s_ what he is. “You’ve arrived safely, ahh, I’m so glad…” 

“Shinonon!” Subaru runs over with a huge beaming smile on his face, scooping the boy up and spinning him around in a fierce hug. “You’re wonderful!! Lord Izumi, this is Hajime, isn’t he great? He’s a stableboy, but sometimes he serves in the main house.”

Makoto stares, trying to force his weary, aching limbs to let him off the horse. “Um, it definitely has a seal in place,” he groans, balls aching from being smacked against the saddle over and over again. “No one should be able to sense anything in here, ow, ow.”

Hajime squeaks, dangling where he’s held, clinging to Subaru’s shoulders so that he isn’t launched clear across the courtyard. “U-um! L-Lord Subaru, please, you shouldn’t—“

“Hiding in plain sight, no kidding,” Izumi mutters, uninterested in Subaru’s pet as he glances around the courtyard. “The prince is here, right? Where?” 

“H…His Highness, he, ah, he…um—“ Hajime twists in Subaru’s hold. “I’ll take Lord Ritsu’s horse, Milord—yours is in the stable—“

Izumi stops dead. “Mine?” 

“T…the big grey one, right? I think his head is bigger than me…”

“Ah, that’s got to be some of Lord Izumi’s Palatial Reserve stock,” Makoto mutters, remembering his time running away from work in his childhood, watching Izumi pat the enormous heads. 

“Highness? Your highness?” The voice grows steadily more frantic, the sounds of doors opening and closing all over the estate, until a curly blue head of hair pokes out of the courtyard door, eyes widening behind spectacles as he notices the new arrivals. “Oh! Hello, Subaru, welcome home, and you must be the Sena heir, and...ah, forgive me, I haven’t been a Dawncloak for quite sometime, I don’t quite recognize...”

Izumi is uninterested, and promptly moves to snatch Hajime out of Subaru’s hold. “Take me to the stables.”

“U-um—!” 

“You’re a stableboy, aren’t you? Let’s go.” 

Hajime frantically grabs for Subaru’s horse’s reins. “I—c-certainly, Milord! Um, Lord Subaru, if you need anything, please let me know!” 

Subaru pulls an apple out of his saddlebags, tossing it over to Hajime with a smile. “That’s for your brother and sister, I’ve got more for you later, come by my room!”

Just after Hajime and Izumi move into the stables, Tsumugi hurries over to Makoto, asking in a low tone, “Did you happen to see a young man as you rode, perhaps wearing a hood, perhaps riding quickly towards the Capital?”

“Ah, no, we didn’t really...see much, we only traveled at night.”

Izumi, dragging both Ritsu’s horse and Hajime (dragging Subaru’s horse), is uninterested in anything but the possibility that maybe, _maybe_ —“Now,” he flatly says, “when you say it’s _my_ horse, do you mean that it’s Northern stock, or—“

There’s a crash from the stable—perhaps better described as the sound of a wall all but crashing down—and a yelp that follows it. “Horse loose, horse loose!” 

“I mean _your_ horse, Milord,” Hajime squeaks, and ducks behind Izumi in an attempt avoid the enormous, charging beast that has absolutely knocked down an entire stall door to escape. “He’s _so big—“_

“No way,” Izumi breathes, dropping Hajime and the reins of Ritsu’s horse in a heartbeat. Thank god he does, because Ritsu’s horse bolts, skittering sideways, fairly convinced that Vale—a slightly skinnier, not anywhere near as immaculately groomed Vale—is going to ram directly into him. The horse skids to a stop instead, and nearly knocks Izumi to the ground when Izumi grabs him, swinging his enormous head with an loud snort. “Looook at you, you’re too skinny, what have they been doing to you?!” 

“What kind of establishment are you running here if horses can simply escape like that?” The scolding comes from the other side of the stables, and it’s so familiar (in the stuffiest sense) that Izumi actually bothers looking up from cuddling his horse. “Honestly…Your Highness, please, report into the house before they actually realize you’ve been absent…” 

“Your Highness!” Tsumugi’s voice rings out again, fretful, but now from the other side of the castle. Good. 

Leo ducks out from under Tsukasa’s arm, shaking his hair out as he tries to finger-comb it into its tail. “Leave me alone, go to your top-heavy woman, I’m busy!”

He dashes out from the stables, vaguely remembers something from the corner of his eye, then dashes back in to the other side, following that flash of silver hair like a beacon until he stands in front of Izumi, his heart thudding. “Bastard page,” he whispers, green eyes filling.

His horse being returned to him could only be topped by one thing, after all. 

Izumi releases Vale in the next breath, stumbling back from him when the sight of Leo nearly fells him. _Alive, he’s alive, they weren’t lying to me, he’s right here and he’s alive_ —and that so rapidly replaces the last image he had of Leo (bleeding out in an alley outside of a no-name bar) that Izumi’s own eyes blur sharply with tears. 

“ _Leo_.” Izumi lurches forward, grabs him, and hugs him so tightly it lifts Leo off of his feet. The familiar scent of him fills his nose, and Izumi shudders, squeezing him harder. “Gods, you’re _alive._ ” 

“Last I checked,” Leo squeaks, and finally the spell that seems to be binding him in place is broken, letting him wrap his arms and legs around Izumi, burying his face in Izumi’s--

“Your _hair_ , what’s wrong with your hair, it’s not long enough! Are you--of course you’re fine, I knew they were all liars, you’re _mine_ \--”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, see, all four limbs, still fully capable of picking your scrawny ass up—“ Izumi huffs, blinking away the sting of tears that keep wanting to resurface. He hoists Leo up more securely, partially slinging him over his shoulder. “Hair grows back, Milord, don’t worry about it. Look at you, you’re completely fine, aren’t you—ah, if you have a scar, I’ll never forgive myself…” 

“I think it makes me look super manly,” Leo protests, but doesn’t bother disentangling to show off how tiny the little white line on his throat is. “Rei says he can’t get rid of the mark of a mortal wound. I say he’s dumb if he thinks that was mortal, because I’m still alive, haha!”

“I’ll fix it later,” Izumi resolves, and subsequently grabs Vale by the tail, slapping his ass to make him turn around and stop trying to eat the flower gardens that seem to be everywhere. “Here, up you go,” he grunts, throwing Leo over Vale’s bare back. “You’re still dressed for a ride, so we’re going. They told me you were already here, you know. What have you been up to?” 

It takes more effort than he’d like to admit to haul himself onto the back of a _much_ taller horse without a saddle after so long, and Izumi apologetically rubs Vale’s shoulder after needing to use his mane as a veritable rope ladder. “How close is this place to the ocean? You know what, never mind, I’ll find out.” 

“I went to find you,” Leo grumbles, clinging to Izumi’s waist. “And then I met the Emperor, and Tsukasa said you were back here, so we turned around.”

“…You met… _who?”_ Izumi shakes his head, steering Vale with his leg alone, his fingers loosely wrapped up in his mane. It’s a blessing to have his horse back, for sure, a horse that isn’t just a plodder or a crazed racer, but Leo…Leo against his back, warm and solid and _alive_ … “You know, I don’t care,” he exhales, making brisk work of escaping the back courtyard. The state seems to border most of the main roads, but in the middle of the night, it’s still _empty_ , and that’s a relief. More of a relief—not having a wizard with them that’s incredibly easy to track. “We could just run away, you know.” 

“All right,” Leo agrees. It’s too easy that he agrees, but he’s _tired_ , and being cuddled up to Izumi takes all of his determination and leaves him with nothing but relief from head to toe. “Where should we go?”

“Wherever we want. But first things first, back to the capital, so I can kill some people.” 

Following the scent of salt spray is easy, and it turns out, the estate is _right_ against the ocean, with a number of narrow, sandy paths leading there. Vale finds this distasteful—seagrass isn’t exactly edible—but Izumi nudges him forward anyway, until the dune drops off and Izumi leans back to not go over Vale’s head, letting the horse pick his way down the sharp incline. “Everything has gone so far to shit,” he sighs. “I don’t even want to deal with it, you know?” 

“You don’t have to,” Leo says softly, nuzzling against Izumi’s upper back, holding him tight. “That’s why I’m the prince. It’s my job to deal with stuff like this. You just have to keep me alive until I do.”

“You could use a better bodyguard. I already came pretty close to fucking that up.” 

“Then get better. I haven’t waited this long to have someone _else_ as my bastard page, you know.” Leo latches on to Izumi’s shoulder with his teeth, clamping down, then releasing. “Besides, getting caught like that was my fault. I shouldn’t have been running around without an escort, or getting drunk in town. I’m just...really sorry you got caught up in that stupid coup.”

“…It’s a lot easier to say ‘get better’ when you didn’t fuck up and see _me_ die.” 

He wipes a hand down his face, annoyed, and kicks Vale down the rest of the dune. It’s high tide, and the water already laps at his horse’s hooves. 

Seeing Leo alive was such a rush that coming down from it, being reminded that he almost _had_ died, feels even worse. Coming _so close_ to the worst failure of his life—it’s a feeling of dread that he can’t quite shake, especially when it could easily happen again. Too many people want Leo dead. Too many people know what _he_ is now, and that makes him so much easier to subdue—which makes it so much harder to keep Leo safe. It’s a terrible, paralyzing fear, and his fingers tremble. _Just get better._ Easy to say, hard to do when he already was so sure he did everything he could and it wasn’t enough.

Finally, quietly, Izumi says, “I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”

Slowly, Leo unwinds his arms from around Izumi’s waist. “I can’t force you to keep me safe,” he says softly, and tips himself back over Vale’s rump, splashing into the cold water of the ocean, rolling quickly to the side to avoid being stomped in case Vale spooks.

“Ah—Milord, _why?_ ” Izumi incredulously demands, releasing Vale’s mane to slide off after Leo, standing in the knee-high water. “Stop it, you’re going to drift off to sea. It’s far too cold for you, get up.” 

“Let someone else come get me,” Leo says, starting to kick his feet, backstroking out away from the shore. “Goodbye, bastard page, this is my fate, I’m going. Maybe I’ll get eaten by a stray merman, that sounds nice.”

Izumi scowls as he lurches forward, grabbing Leo by the ankle to haul him back. “You’re pissing me off! Don’t be such a selfish brat, obviously I’m not going to let you drift off to sea.” 

“Not your job, though.” Leo blinks up at Izumi, not thrashing anymore, gazing up through clear eyes. “Don’t tell me you’e already forgotten that I’m infuriating and changeable? If you don’t want to protect me anymore, I won’t hold you to it. You can still be my lover. I’ll do the traditional thing and choose a child without ties for my squire.”

“You’re not listening to me, to hell with you!” 

Izumi can hear himself start to cry before he even feels it, or sees the stinging, salty brine of tears blur his vision. He releases Leo’s ankle, jerking away, stalking away through the shallow water. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to protect you anymore! I said I wasn’t good enough, fucking open up your ears!” He throws himself back against Vale’s shoulder—Vale, unfazed, trying to eat seaweed—with a harsh, hiccuping breath. “I gave up _everything_ to stay at your side,” he bites out. “I’ve turned down offer after offer and embarrassed myself to stay the oldest page in court. I’ve killed myself for the past year to make a name for myself so I was something other than the _only_ heir of a province no one gives a damn about, so you’d stop getting snubbed at court for favoring me. Then—t-the _one time_ I have to prove myself as someone who can really protect you, and I fuck it up, even after all of that—your uncle’s right, I’m nothing more than a traitor, a shitty bastard.” Izumi sniffs, shoving a hand underneath his running nose. “Don’t you ever fucking say I don’t _want_ to protect you again, that’s the fucking worst thing I’ve ever heard.” 

Leo sighs. Izumi crying is absolutely his weak point, and he scrubs his hands over his face, feeling the sting of the saltwater. He follows after Izumi, standing up to grab Izumi’s shoulders with a grip like iron, fingers digging into his skin. “You’re misunderstanding me, idiot,” he says softly, stepping close enough that their noses touch, both of them dripping with water and snot, both of them crybabies at heart. “As long as you love me, as long as you want to protect me, you have a place at my side. So the only reason you should ever leave is that--look, I’m not saying I’m good with words, I hate words! But I love you!”

Izumi sobs, throwing his arms around Leo and squeezing him so tightly that he hears his own bones pop. “I saw you _die_ ,” he whispers, his voice shaking as he buries his face into Leo’s hair. “And it was my f-fault. I w-want to protect you, I want to, god, I want to, but I…I don’t know how to trust that I can, Leo, t…tell me how I’m supposed to do that.” 

“Humans die,” Leo whispers, clinging to Izumi as hard as he can, nuzzling into Izumi’s ear, sniffing loudly before he can stop himself. “It’s all right, you know? I’ll die someday, that doesn’t mean you’re doing a bad job, I know that’s not a comfort but it’s _true_ , my love. Just...remember how much worse everyone else would be. That’s the same for my love, I can’t imagine giving it to anyone but you.”

“ _No_. You…you’re not allowed to die. I love you so much, you can’t ever die.” Izumi sniffs again, his hands fisting into Leo’s stupid, soaking wet shirt. “I don’t get to die, so neither do you. And gods,” he sobs again, a hiccuping, not entirely sane laugh mixed in with it. “I _tried_. W-when they told me you were dead, I gave up, I did, I wanted to die, at least t-then I would’ve been able to see you.”

“My love...”

Leo pulls back, wiping the hair out of Izumi’s face with wet hands, hardly feeling the water tugging at his feet and calves. His gaze is searching, penetrating, and his voice drops to a whisper, as uncertain as the sand he’s standing on. “Oh, oh my love. What did they do to you?”

Izumi shakes his head, letting his face tip forward down into Leo’s hands. “Nothing I wouldn’t go through again, if it meant you would live,” he whispers, even as a shudder rakes down his spine. He draws back, folding his arms across his chest, bolstering himself against the chill that uncomfortably sets in. “If… _when_ you become king,” he firmly corrects, staring down into the water running over his booted feet, “there are some houses…that I’ll never, ever see in your court. I’ll kill them before they can walk through the doors.” 

“I’m not going to be my father,” Leo warns. “No personal vengeances. If someone has done wrong, you’ll handle it in an honorable vengeance duel, or you’ll handle it through the courts, like anyone else. A king handling things under the table is how I got so many people on my side, you know?”

“I’m not the king.” Izumi lifts his gaze, his eyes glowing too-bright. “And I never said it would be under the table. I’ll cut them down publicly and finish it properly this time.” 

Leo lays a hand on Izumi’s face, feeling the chill of it, his own drawn tight with worry. “What did they do to you?” he asks again, voice not above a whisper. “Don’t think you can get away with not telling me.”

Izumi’s lips press into a thin line, and he leans back, grabbing Leo’s hand from his face to press a kiss to it instead. “It’s nothing a prince should hear,” he quietly says. “I still hate that they found out I was a half-blood. He tried to poison you, you know, your uncle.” 

“I know. I rode out to kill him.” Leo turns his hand, showing where it had been stained carmine from the ribbon tied around it for two days. “Only hearing that you lived stayed my hand. But now I feel like I should have kept riding, if he’s killed the light in your eyes.”

“He didn’t touch me. He just…facilitated the whole thing.” Izumi shrugs, restlessly glancing aside. “Karn, Hennessy, Blake, Plaskett, Rains, Wynne.” The names roll off of his tongue like a sickening poem, and it makes his stomach flip. “Those are the houses involved. Your uncle specifically recruited all of them. I have bastards in Karn, Hennessy, and Rains.”

He didn’t touch me.

_That phrase in particular echoes in Leo’s mind in a sickening, echoing finality. It’s such a specific thing to say for no reason that it makes Leo clutch at Izumi’s shirt, wishing he still had the ribbon tied to his wrist. “If they were men,” he says lowly, voice trembling, “they would have faced you in combat. As you can them, when I’m king--I’ll approve all of your duel requests.”_

“And make it obvious I went crying to you? No, fuck that. They’ll be dead by my hand before you take the throne.” The words are final, entirely uninterested in negotiation. Izumi’s jaw tenses, and he unlaces the top of his shirt, yanking it down, letting Leo see the ugly, blotchy white scar that spans a good portion of the bottom of his neck. “When they found out I was a half-blood, they drugged me, collared me like an animal, all with poison and magic meant for beasts. Then they sold me like one, again and again and again.” His voice shakes, as does his lower lip, and Izumi bites it until he tastes blood against his tongue. “They aren’t interested in treating me like a man, so I won’t extend the same courtesy.” 

Leo’s stomach turns over. Then abruptly it flares, as if Leo’s entire body is roaring to life, staring at the blotched skin creating a mar--on his, _his knight_. 

And worse, it’s far too easy to imagine, with Leo’s mind, Izumi in a cold cell, his body sold to men who don’t deserve him, curled up and pleading for death. 

“I wish I were you,” he whispers, hands resting against Izumi’s neck and chin, holding him close, trying to make himself understood with every cell in his fingertips. “I’d--I’d give anything to swear vengeance right now and ride out, and it--gods of my forefathers, it _kills_ me that me doing that would be a royal statement. All I can think is...if I declare war on my father, if he won’t denounce them, they’ll be war criminals, at least. And I’d do it, for you.”

Izumi laughs wetly at that, and he shakes his head, grabbing for Leo again, throwing his arms around him. “Please don’t. Please, please don’t. Just let me kill them and be done with it. It’s…it’s already disgusting and shameful enough, don’t you think? How would you even frame it to your father? Gods, he probably even knows by now.” 

“It’s not hard to say that they tortured you,” Leo says softly. “That’s what it was--I would never call something like that...anything else. I’ll tell him that he has the opportunity to rid himself of monsters in the realm, and if he refuses, it’s not the realm I want to run.”

_But they’ll know I said something. All of them will know, that’s the worst part._ Izumi shifts uncomfortably, looking aside. “He already announced that you were dead,” he quietly points out. “I don’t know if he believes it or not, but…I’m afraid he’ll try to say it’s not really you, or something ridiculous like that. I’m not trying to talk you out of it, just…running through things. I don’t know, I’m so tired.” 

Leo grabs Izumi’s shirt, then deliberately falls back again, dragging them both back into the water this time. Gentle waves crash over them, and he gulps a little seawater, spitting it out in a thin stream. “Let me carry you for a while. I’ve been cooped up and dying to go do something. I have...some choices to make soon. Just let me know that you’ll be at my side. I don’t ever want you leaving it again.”

Izumi spits seawater, coughing for a moment with a ragged huff to follow. “It’s so cold, how are you standing this?” he incredulously asks, automatically trying to climb back to his feet, hauling Leo with him. He sniffs, wiping at his nose. “I don’t ever want to leave your side again,” he murmurs. “I mean that. Let me grow my hair back out and I’ll make a convincing woman, I’ll be your wife that hides a sword under her skirt.” 

“Fool,” Leo says softly, becoming dead weight around Izumi’s neck, dangling there. “Hide it like a real woman does, in the back of your corset.”

“Sounds like it would get in the way of tightening the strings all the way,” Izumi wryly says, pulling Leo back onto his feet, mostly. He lets Leo dangle around his neck before he slings him up and onto Vale’s back. “Get up there. Please tell me you have a private room at this…weird estate I’ve been dragged to. I want to take a bath, and hold you, and sleep.” 

“Of course we do,” Leo says with a sigh. “As if the Demon King would do otherwise. And the fake lord and lady are quite nice...you probably should look at the way our dear lady does it, if you want to see how to hide a truly terrifying amount of knives in a corset and skirts.”

“I’ve been hearing so damned much about this Demon King,” Izumi mutters, hauling himself up onto Vale’s back with a little huff of effort. “He better be delightfully terrifying. Also, I don’t want to hide _knives_ , I want to hide a whole damned sword. Maybe two.” 

Leo opens his mouth to respond, only to be cut off by the sudden clamoring of enormous bells, ringing out from the castle town, reverberating through the beach. His brows draw together, and he looks up at the bluffs. “I’m not sure what that is,” he says slowly, “but I don’t think it’s a _good_ sound. I used to hear it sometimes as a child...”

“I have no idea what that is,” Izumi warily agrees, but he gives Vale a swift kick, bringing his head up from his seaweed-sampling attempts. “To the estate or away from it, Milord? I don’t even know how many fugitives are there right now, so if those bells have anything to do with that…”

“I don’t know.” But he’s the prince, so he has to make a decision. Leo takes a breath, then says, “To the estate. I’m sick of running.”

Izumi nods, urging Vale forward. “Hold on—I wouldn’t say Vale is a _jumper_ ,” Izumi grouses, but even with him saying that, Vale scales and leaps back over the dunes with far more enthusiasm than a horse his size should have. 

They emerge over the dunes just in time to see _something_ launch into the sky, huge, black leathery wings splayed out and flapping once before the thing is simply gone. Vale bolts underneath them, uncharacteristically unsettled, and Izumi clings to his mane, staring up at the sky. If he hadn’t seen something _so_ similar only hours before, he’d be shaken, but… “That…probably wasn’t Ritsu,” he hazards. “So…I guess I’m not meeting the Demon King tonight.” 

“I don’t know who Ritsu is,” Leo murmurs, trying to track the movement of that _thing_ in the sky, “but if he’s anything like that thing, he’s officially weird. Definitely from the moon, don’t you think? Ah, now I think we should just take cover until morning, you know? A really awesome horse like this going through the gate right now...if whatever’s happening can fly too, and there’s eyes on us from above, I don’t want to draw attention to the estate.”

“Ritsu is the Demon King’s brother…so yes. Basically from the moon.” 

Izumi chews on his lower lip, then nods, settling Vale with a pat on his neck. The horse snorts, still displeased at the sight of some weird demon thing, and Izumi urges him towards a different side path. “Ritsu’s…lover? or something—was in trouble back in the capital. He’s been spying for the Demon King, I think, and got caught. Maybe the Demon King went to help.” 

“I doubt Shu will like that,” Leo says softly. “The wizard, he’s a wizard at the estate. He and Rei seemed quite attached.”

“I know Shu. I was his bodyguard. Is he well?” Ahh, now he’s _itching_ to go back to the estate. “Is Mika with him, too? And Arashi?” 

“Ehhh, so you really know them? Captain Arashi and I talk about you sometimes.” Leo looks around, and bites his lip. “I bet we can sneak back in. They all really want to see you, and I’m sure Vale needs to eat about nine buckets of oats.”

“Oh, gods, what has he been saying about me? Don’t believe him, he’s the worst,” Izumi protests, giving Vale a sharp kick when he finally settles enough to start trying to eat trees again. “Will you reach back and slap his ass, it’s all this brute deserves. Gods, I missed him, though,” Izumi groans, slumping forward for a moment to hug his horses’s neck. “Second only to you, this fatass.” 

“I wish I’d found him. Then we could have searched for you together, and I’d have found you in two hours.” Leo reaches behind, and slaps Vale on the rump as hard as he can with the flat of his hand.

Vale grunts at that, his ears half-heartedly lying back against his head, but he moves forward anyway. “I wish you had, too,” Izumi says with a sigh as they move back to the proper road surrounding the estate. “You would’ve fed him properly, too. Look how skinny he is, he’s dying.” 

The estate gate is empty of activity except for the posted guards, and Izumi takes that to be a good sign. “It seems quiet,” he notes, nodding to the guards, who wave them on through. Apparently, they’ve been notified about who he is as well. “That’s a good sign, I suppose?” 

“It can’t be a _bad_ sign,” Leo says hopefully. He swings down off of Vale, whistling for a stableboy to take Vale, instructing, “Make sure you just, you just feed the hell out of him. There’s basically no amount that’s too much. Oh, and where’s Captain Arashi, and the wizards?”

It’s Hajime again, tiny and retreating as he was the first time, and he bows clumsily, all the marks of a lowborn attempting to fit in with society far too noble for him. “The last I heard, Milord, they were sharing wine in the hall—the bells worried them, Milord…”

“You be good for this kid,” Izumi warns Vale as he slides off of his back. A last slap to the horse’s flank, and he swings his arm around Leo instead, uninterested in being anything but touchy and clingy when he finally has him back in his sights. 

They barely make it over the threshold of the dining hall before a chair is flung back to shatter against a wall. The next second, Captain Arashi of the Sharps, a few huge fading bruises still visible on his skin, slams into Izumi with a hug that shoves him back several steps. “I knew it! I knew you were alive, I’ve been saying it, you’re so tough and you don’t even look terrible, I hate you, I’m not crying--”

Back at the table, Shu draws himself up to his full height, giving Leo a small bow even as his face is a mask of relief. “It’s good to see you’re well,” he calls, but doesn’t try to intrude on the rather violent hug currently occurring.

The noises Izumi _would_ be making are sufficiently muffled against Arashi’s chest, and he flails for a moment before surrendering. “Fuck you, you aren’t human,” he gasps, throwing his head back to breathe and speak when he swings both arms around Arashi, clapping him hard on the back. “I look better than not terrible, be nice to me, you asshole! Ahh, I’m not c-crying either, it’s the salt in the air here, this is the worst!”

“Snakes’re hard to kill,” Mika pipes up, chin in his hands, his hair groomed and tied back from his face for once with a neat green ribbon. “Told you.” 

“Yes, yes, I suppose you were correct, but I _did_ only say I wanted to see him well, use your ears.”

Arashi finally lets Izumi go, breathing hard and wiping at his eyes, now watering freely. “Seriously, you look so good, I hate you, I still look horrific. My gods, come, eat, you look like you haven’t had anything for a year. Your highness, you really should feed your Kingsguard.”

“Oi! He never lets me!”

“What do you mean, you ass? You look fantastic, ugh, get back here, who the fuck hit your face, that’s a crime,” Izumi insists, lurching after Arashi to compulsively grab him by the chin, fingers swiftly pressing over the dark, ugly bruise mottling one of his cheekbones and watching it fade. “There, that’s better.” 

“I brought more wine,” Tsukasa announces as he walks into the hall, a bottle in each hand, pausing for a moment at the sight. “Ah, good, you did make it here safely after all. Your Highness, please don’t run off like that so suddenly again, you caused us all a great amount of distress when the bells rang.” 

Arashi huffs out a breath, pressing his fingers to the newly-healed area. “I’ve missed you, the healers said that bone was shattered. What about you, I’ve talked to your wizard and he said you were _stabbed_? Like, _many_ times?” 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to share your information--”

Leo whirls on Izumi, glaring. “He conveniently left that part out.”

Izumi holds his hands up defensively. “Like I wanted to think about it? I barely even remember that part, I swear. Ah, give me some of that wine, I’ve had a long ride,” he complains, grabbing a bottle out of Tsukasa’s hold and collapsing down into the nearest chair, pulling Leo down into his lap as casually as he would any other friend in the room, if not even more so, which raises a few eyebrows. Tsukasa nearly drops the other wine bottle. Izumi doesn’t notice, and teases Arashi with: “Anything else you need fixed up, Milady? Shu, you look well, at least. Did I miss the Demon King again?” 

“He had to adjourn for the evening,” Shu says, a hint of sourness creeping into his voice and face, glaring down at his goblet of wine as if it had taken his lover away. “A matter of some importance--and of course, the Faerie found our scent, somehow. I don’t know how that bastard does what he does, but he’s the Emperor’s favorite for a reason.”

“I met him once,” Makoto says softly. “The Faerie. He’s so...so much. I thought I was going to die just by being around him too long.”

“Nonsense. He’s...” Shu swallows a gulp of wine, making a face at the taste, to which he is not accustomed. “He used to be a very good friend of mine. Have you met him, Your Highness?”

Leo shakes his head, reaching for his own goblet, then pours it into Izumi’s mouth. “I’ve met the Emperor quite a few times, but never the Faerie. Tsukasa, have you? Your family has close ties with the Academy, no?”

“I’ve met him.” 

Tsukasa pours his own goblet of wine, a frown on his lips. “He’s aptly named. Being around him as a human is as if…you’ve walked out onto a summer day that’s far too humid. You’re hit in the face by that _wall_ of heat, and it slaps the breath right out of you. Unpleasant.” He shivers, and takes a long sip of wine. “Like those plays about faeries—it feels as though he’s going to drag you off somewhere and not let you return. Being around him always made me uneasy, but he does seem to make Himemiya uncomfortable as well, so I enjoy that.” 

“Himemiya…isn’t that your cousin?” Izumi presses Leo, slinging an arm tight about his waist and insistently topping off the now-empty goblet with more wine. “I forgot he bloomed, that’s so _strange_ to think about.” 

“Ain’t just poor people that turn into wizards,” Mika softly points out, avoiding the wine altogether. “Everyone’s got a chance at being fucked over by the crown.” 

“Being fucked over by the crown is likewise not a privilege relegated to the impoverished or to wizards,” Leo says darkly. “We do it just fine to ourselves.”

“Hear, hear,” Arashi laughs, toasting his glass in the air, far more cheerful now that the unsightly (and painful) bruise on his cheek is gone. 

“And yes, the Himemiya line is a close cousin of ours. He was next in line, after me. But now...” Leo frowns briefly. “Now it’s father, then me, then uncle Rodan, may the crows feast on his eyes, then...Tsukasa, is it your father, or you next? No, it’s you, you’re a distaff line, correct?”

Mika neatly deposits himself into Arashi’s lap, arms slung around his neck. Tsukasa grimaces, and takes another drink of wine. “Your father has confirmed you to be dead, Your Highness—so it’s Duke Rodan—“

“Boooo, rot in hell.” 

“Yes, Lord Izumi, indeed. Duke Rodan, then myself. Ahh, that gives me chills thinking about it, I need another slice of cake…”

“You’re getting fat,” Arashi warns, but he waves to a servant anyway, who cuts a slice of cake and delivers it to Tsukasa. 

“He stress-eats, always has,” Leo says fondly, grabbing for a cherry and popping it into his mouth. “Ah, is it unmannerly of me to ask for introductions for everyone? Does everyone...know each other, or am I the one that knows everyone but one person here?”

“I think I’m the only one that knows everyone,” Izumi wryly admits, pulling the cherry stem from Leo’s fingers to pop it into his own mouth. 

“Unfortunately, I think I know very few of you as well,” Tsukasa apologizes after shoving a piece of cake into his mouth. “Most of my family’s dealings remain within the capital. Sir Tsukasa, son of the Suou house, adjacent to the crown.”

“Leo,” Leo says with a grin, “dead prince. Either first in line for the crown or not in line at all, depending on how dead my father actually wants me.”

“Shu. Wizard, and Nightcloak. Formerly the Academy’s Reigning Champion, currently in service to Captain Arashi.”

“Ooh, that one’s me. Captain Arashi of the Sharps, though I don’t mind if you call me Milady in private.” Arashi winks. “Common born, so you wouldn’t know me, Milord, since I got my title through actions out in the West.”

“M-Makoto,” Makoto stammers, looking down at his hands. “Dawncloak. Wizard, I should have said first, sorry. I’m a, um, researcher.” He spares a look for Shu and Mika, looking entirely terrified. “I’m not like them, I’m not fancy or talented.”

Mika stifles a yawn into his hand, one arm still loosely coiled about Arashi’s neck. “Mika. Wizard, Nooncloak, from the Sandlands. Shu’s my master.” 

“And literally everyone knows who I am, I suppose?” Izumi says with a snort, pulling out the cherry stem from his mouth and idly dropping it back into Leo’s hand, tied in a neat knot. “But just to make sure—Izumi, heir of the Sena house of the North. Forever a page at this point, I think.” 

“I’ve _never_ met a page as old as you,” Tsukasa unhelpfully points out.

“Thanks. I know.” 

“It’s because he won’t serve anyone but me,” Leo says fondly, plucking the cherry stem from Izumi’s fingers with a sly glance that quickly turns heated. “Nor do I want him to. It makes sense not just for his future loyalties, but for the North.”

“They love him up there,” Makoto says softly, then frowns, annoyed with himself as if he’s troubled the great lords at the table by speaking. “I apologize for talking, I just...”

“Ooh! If you’re from the North,” Arashi reasons, “do you have stories about Izumi as a child?”

“Um, yes, from before I bloomed, I suppose--”

“You better be picky about what you say,” Izumi warns, his fingers skirting lower against Leo’s hip, splaying there with a slow, affectionate squeeze. “Tell them how exceptional I was only.”

Mika shifts in Arashi’s lap, grabs up an empty wine goblet, and promptly fills it before pushing it over in front of Makoto. “Get a little tipsy, and ’s a lot easier dealin’ with these kinda people,” he quietly says. 

“I can go and get _more_ wine, as necessary,” Tsukasa says, already a little flushed, and his cake is absolutely gone. “This is a grand occasion, is it not? Ah, though Ritsu is missing, a terrible shame…” 

“We’d be complete,” Arashi says wistfully. “Ahh, he’d love this, he loves wine. Mm, your Highness, you haven’t had a chance to meet us all as a group, but we do appreciate you and what you stand for quite a bit.” He rests his hand on Mika’s thigh, more fond than proprietary, as if he’s still not quite sure he’s lucky enough to be able to touch him sometimes. 

Makoto takes the wine from Mika, nodding in thanks and tipping quite a bit of it into his mouth. Maybe if he does, it’ll feel less like Izumi had used him and thrown him away like a crumpled bit of paper someone had spilled tea onto, the second his precious prince was back in sight. “Lord Izumi was very kind,” he eventually says into his glass. “He used to volunteer to go out looking for any people or animals lost in snowstorms. It gets very very cold in the winters there, and our storms are quite frightening.”

“Is it true, in the North, that even the estates have very few servants?” Tsukasa _has_ to know, because it seems so ridiculous that it can’t possibly be true. “So even those highborn—“

“Actually know how to cook and clean, yes, rich boy, that’s how it is, bask in your helplessness,” Izumi interrupts with a dismissive flutter of his hand. “There’s only one real noble family in the North and it’s mine, you know. Yuukun’s mother used to work for us, before he bloomed, that’s how we know one another. You can tell them how cute I was as a kid, go ahead.” 

Makoto darts a glance at Leo, perched happily on Izumi’s lap, and then away. “He was a very cute child,” he says softly. “And never complained about doing his share of chores. Every time he rode around on his horse--it wasn’t Vale back then, it was his old horse, Bounder--people would wave at him, and say quietly to each other that it was lucky we had such a fine young lord for the future.”

“Which should say something about my character, mind, because everyone _still_ knew I was a bastard, and thought my father was some commoner, to boot,” Izumi dryly adds, pouring himself another glass of wine, and taking a sip before offering it to Leo next. “Gods, that was the worst about going to the capital. All of you don’t give a shit if a commoner’s having at it with nobles, but if it’s two men—gods _forbid._ ”

“Ah, really?” Tsukasa’s head tilts. “Is it truly the opposite up North? No wonder no one was surprised at the party when you and Ritsu were—“

“Of course not, he’s titled, no one gives a damn. All they want up there are heirs, and if you’re virile enough to start sucking on _someone’s_ tongue, then you’ll probably move on to women at least once in your life.”

“We’re just awful everywhere,” Leo says, leaning forward onto the table to grab another handful of fruits, then down them with a few swigs of wine. “Because my status is far above yours, and I’ve got a prick to boot.”

A serving girl refills the bowl of cherries, then looks at Izumi and blushes, giving him an extra little curtsy.

Izumi goes a full shade paler, and snatches the shared wine goblet away from Leo, downing it in short order, making it a _point_ to not even look at the girl even _once_. “No, you’re perfect everywhere, Milord, trust me.” 

Tsukasa watches this curiously, and remarks, “Lord Izumi, I always heard you had something of a reputation in the capital—“

“I’ve heard of your reputation,” Izumi briskly interrupts. “Which is that you’ll pay good money just to _touch_ a nice pair of tits.”

“I—well!”

“Izumi, darling, don’t you think that’s a bit hypocritical of you?” Arashi asks, eyebrow raised. “I think everyone has heard your reputation from Glacierland to the Sandlands--hell, I’m pretty sure some Inglings know.”

Shu sniffs. “And why shouldn’t he enjoy himself? He’s unmarried and his cock is unbound, at least someone should have fun.”

“He has plenty of fun,” Leo grouses, sitting back more firmly on Izumi’s lap.

“I don’t ever pay for it, get it right, Milady,” Izumi snidely tosses back, encouraging Leo by pulling him back a bit more. Tsukasa looks rightfully scandalized, but Izumi doesn’t care. At least the serving girl has gone. “If I’ve learned one thing lately, it’s not to waste my time with women. You’re the only girl for me now, Captain.” 

“Get your own,” Mika moodily shoots back, nestling firmly into Arashi’s chest. 

“Be sweet to me for five seconds, would you? I fixed his pretty face.” 

“I’ve got some more for you to fix up if you really want to show off,” Arashi says sweetly. “But it’s not appropriate for a dinner table with a prince sitting here.”

Shu’s mouth tightens at the sight of both Mika and Leo cuddled up to their lovers, bare moments after Wataru’s bells had echoed through the peaceful coastal town. _Don’t they know that seals crack and fray? Don’t they know that at any moment, someone could come and destroy us all because of it?_ But maybe that’s why they do it, knowing they may not have another chance. And maybe, he admits to himself, he’s just jealous that his own lover has gone again, sprouting great wings and dashing off towards something only he can feel. 

“Regardless, I appreciate the sentiment of bullying Tsukasa here,” Leo says cheerfully. “But I’m surprised he’s still here. Don’t you want to sneak off and see your beloved woman made of tits?”

Tsukasa slams his wine goblet down, making the jumpier members of their little party flinch. “She,” he slowly begins, “has the largest tits I’ve ever _seen._ ”

Izumi snorts out a laugh at that. “Of _course_ that’s what you like, you seem like the type.”

“No, you…you don’t understand, Lord Izumi. They’re _so_ large.”

“Sure, sure.” 

“And I don’t _pay her_ , how d..dare all of you!” He’s _very_ drunk now, which is intensely amusing. “I…am her patron.” 

Izumi’s eyebrows raise, and he takes a slow sip from his own wine. “Isn’t that sort of…”

“It’s not the same thing!” Tsukasa immediately insists. “It’s the same as you, Lord Izumi— _everyone_ knows why you were always so finely dressed in the capital!”

“Because I have taste?”

“ _I_ have taste.” Tsukasa pauses, and his eyes abruptly well with tears. “H-her son calls me _father_ , what a good boy…” 

“Is there such a thing as being _too_ drunk?” Izumi mildly asks, his fingers idly slipping underneath Leo’s shirt to splay over the bare skin of his stomach instead.

“You can’t be a father, you’re my baby,” Arashi says seriously, laying a hand not entirely accurately over Tsukasa’s, trying to hold his eyes. “I mean, I’d still tumble you, make no mistake, but you’re _definitely_ my baby.”

“It’s a blood pact, apparently,” Leo confides in Mika, reaching behind to give Izumi’s chest a pinch. “They’ve all got to roll each other every so often to swear to silence.”

“Sounds like an excuse,” Shu says mildly, behind a glass of wine.

“Sir Arashi,” Tsukasa says, staring him right in the eye, his voice very serious, “you’re a handsome man. But outside of our pact, I am uninterested.”

Izumi laughs outright at that, even as he swats at Leo’s pinching fingers. “So blunt! Gods, what is it with rich nobles? They’re all so _rude._ ”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand what’s rude about being honest,” Tsukasa says, leaning back in his seat, his wine sloshing out of its goblet. “I’ve been…I’ve been honest about what I like in women as well. And men. Both. You, Your Highness, you’re a _beauty_ , I like seeing you and Lord Izumi together.” 

“Oh?” Leo asks, tipsy and entirely amused, leaning forward eagerly. “You like me and Izumi, do you? Who else would you--”

“You don’t think I’m sexy?” Arashi asks, mock-put-out, squeezing Mika tight. “What about my _amaka_ here?”

Tsukasa flutters a hand, nodding around his next mouthful of wine. “Good. He’s…yes.”

“He’s what now?” Izumi teases, hooking his chin over Leo’s shoulder, his fingers idly sliding down to squeeze his thigh. 

“Beautiful. Very good, what’s the word.”

“Fuckable?” 

“ _Yes_ , that’s it!”

Mika rolls his eyes, unfazed, even as Izumi loses it, stifling a snort of laughter into Leo’s hair. “Bye, Kasa, it was nice knowing you.”

Arashi’s smile sharpens, and he moves his hand to his waist, and the hilt of his sword. “Let’s step outside for a moment, shall we?”

Tsukasa blinks back at him, not entirely understanding. “Why? It’s rather cold out.”

“Oh, gods, he’s going to die,” Izumi snickers. 

“Oh. Are you upset? Is that it? I only answered your question. Your lover is _very_ beautiful.” 

Mika reaches down, idly patting Arashi’s sword arm. “Nobles are dumb,” he disinterestedly says. “Don’t get up to beat his ass, I’m comfy.” 

Arashi subsides, but only to curl both arms around Mika’s waist. “You can call him beautiful, or godly, or stunning, but you can not call him fuckable. He’s not. For you.”

“What about me?” Shu asks, flushed with a single glass of wine, red creeping in to the top of his ears.

“Like I said, I’m just being honest,” Tsukasa insists, clearly not understanding why this is such a terrible thing. He takes another long drink of wine and stares at Shu, his vision swimming. “You’re…too tall. But nice. Maybe grow your hair out.”

“Do Yuukun,” Izumi butts in, reaching for the wine bottle outright when his goblet is empty. “He’s cute!”

“Also too tall. And glasses…no.”

“I’ll stab you, be nice to him.”

“I’m only a few centimeters taller than Izumi,” Arashi says with a pout. “And I weigh less, how come you’d do him and not me?”

“Because you look like a man.”

The peal of laughter that follows makes Izumi’s jaw drop. “How dare you!”

“You,” Tsukasa says, jabbing a finger in Izumi’s direction, “have the prettiest mouth I’ve seen. And your _arse_ —men don’t look like that.” 

“No, that’s not what I’m mad about, shut up,” Izumi insists, leaning over to punch Arashi in the arm. “You don’t weigh less than me, to hell with you, you harlot!”

Arashi laughs merrily, reaching over to mess up Izumi’s hair. “I absolutely do, I checked your measurements from the tailor. By a good three or four kilos!”

“You’re dense,” Leo agrees, and reaches back, pinching Izumi’s ass. “It’s all here, Tsukasa’s right. Hey, hey, get up, shake it for us, I wanna watch it jiggle.”

Shu perks up, setting his wine aside, trying not to look too interested.

“No, I’m cuddling you,” Izumi snarls, sulking as he flops back again, hauling Leo back into his arms once more and burying his face into the back of his neck. “You’re so pretty, I want to die…”

“This is fine to look at, too,” Tsukasa firmly says, raising his glass.

“You could be less obvious, darling,” Arashi says with a laugh. “Most of us have had a tumble before, it wouldn’t kill us to do it again. For a blood pact, of course. But no one is allowed to touch my darling Mika.”

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, don’t you think?” Shu asks. “Don’t start setting rules before anyone’s agreed to anything.”

“Yeah, maybe I don’t want to share my bastard page.” Leo sits back firmly, attempting to crush Izumi with his slight weight.

“I’m not shareable,” Izumi agrees, brushing Leo’s hair off of the side of his neck to plant a kiss there, which quickly turns to another, then a long, sucking kiss as his hand sneaks up Leo’s shirt again. 

“Yeah, that sounds real,” Mika snorts underneath his breath, snuggling more firmly against Arashi’s chest. 

“Izumi,” Leo says, squirming on his lap, turning with a whine, “if you’re gonna do that, take me somewhere private, don’t lay me out like an offering.”

Makoto hears himself let out an involuntary squeak, and quickly finishes his goblet of wine to cover it up.

“Just let me show off a little bit,” Izumi complains, his hands sliding low to grab handfuls of Leo’s ass and pull him deeper into his lap as he kisses another spot on Leo’s neck. “No one else here gets to touch you, I’m special, and you’re _so_ lovely…”

Tsukasa leans forward, elbows thunking too loudly against the table as he watches. “See, this is good,” he says forwardly. “I prefer this to another blood pact.” 

Izumi growls, low in his throat. “Keep staring too much and we _will_ leave.”

“Don’t you think this is a little embarrassing for their future king?” Leo demands, though the words are cut off with a gasp when Izumi’s mouth presses _just so_. “Don’t make me wait too much longer, I’ve been without you for so long...”

“This is a very adult mood,” Arashi murmurs, glad that Mika is on his lap, drawing him in closer. “Mika, _amaka_ , hide my erection.”

Makoto drains the rest of his drink.

“We’re all drunk, who cares?” Izumi murmurs, nuzzling up to Leo’s ear to pull on one of his earrings, sucking the lobe of his ear into his mouth. His fingers slink up the front of Leo’s shirt, gently twisting one of his nipples. “Mmn, don’t worry, I’ll stop you if you try to climb on it right here and now, we’ll go somewhere private for that…” 

“It’s always an adult mood if the snake’s around,” Mika says with a snort of amusement, even as he cheerfully does as he’s told, wriggling back more than is strictly necessary. Gotta hide it properly, after all. 

“I can’t…decide if I need more wine or if I’m just done,” Tsukasa mutters out loud, wiping a hand down his flushed face. “My life was easier before men…” 

“I kind of miss my weird underwear,” Makoto announces into his wine, louder than is strictly necessary. “At least I wasn’t always embarrassing myself.”

Shu winces. “Did you have the training plate, with the spikes?”

“I do not miss the spikes, Excellency.”

Arashi grimaces. “I forgot about you,” he says to Makoto. “Ah, are you the only one without a lover?”

“Yes,” Makoto says quickly, darting a glance at Izumi. “Alone. Always. No lovers, I’m a virgin of course.”

Leo rolls his eyes, but arches his back, slowly, deliberately grinding down on the growing bulge under his ass. “You feel good,” he murmurs, eyes lidding. “One more glass and I might just let you have me on the table.”

“Someone give me a glass of wine,” Izumi abruptly says, hiking up Leo’s shirt further as he sucks on the side of his neck, grabbing at his hips to pull him down deliberately against the hard line of his cock.

Tsukasa to the rescue—he shoves over his mostly full goblet, and Izumi grabs Leo’s chin, tilting his head back. “C’mon, Leo, you’re the one that said it,” he teases, thumbing open Leo’s mouth, goblet in the other hand. “Now open up.” 

“Wait, can the snake actually put his dick _in_ someone?” Mika whispers against Arashi’s ear, eyes widening in a mix of amusement and surprise. “Heeeh, who knew…” 

Leo tilts his head back, his better judgment already gone, relieved by a combination of both the wine and finally being around trusted friends. The wine is sweet in his mouth and warming in his stomach, and gives him the excuse he wants to turn his head, sucking on Izumi’s thumb as he leans forward against the ornate table. “I’m still everyone’s prince, just so we’re clear,” he groans, letting his thighs part. 

Arashi lets his hand slide down, cupping Mika through his robes, eyes locked on Izumi and Leo. “They’re quite pretty together, aren’t they, _amaka_?” he whispers back.

“Nn, real pretty,” Mika murmurs, exhaling a sigh through his nose as he arches against Arashi’s touch, digging long nails into Arashi’s shoulders as he nestles further into his lap. 

“Yes, yes, you’re everyone’s prince,” Izumi murmurs, shoving his thumb past Leo’s lips to drag it more firmly over his tongue. Ah, there’s no helping it now, not when he’s _this_ hard, and Leo’s _so_ willing. “Arashi,” he mutters, reaching out his other hand, wiggling his fingers. “Oil, please, share with me.” 

Arashi’s mind is slowed by wine for a moment, but then his hand drops to his belt, pulling out a bag with several small vials of oil. Then he leans to the side, and seizes Izumi’s fingers in his mouth, dragging his tongue over them in a slow, hot curl before pulling back with a wink, passing over a vial. “At least take off some of his clothes. We want a real show.” 

This is starting to feel real to Leo, and he shivers, unbearably hard in his trousers, hands curling in the tablecloth. He looks up, and finds himself meeting Tsukasa’s eyes, which somehow only makes him harder. “Will you respect your prince less after this, boy?”

Tsukasa’s mouth is dry, and his tongue doesn’t work for a moment as he exhales a strangled, hungry sound. “N…no,” he finally manages, shivering down to his toes. “Absolutely not.” 

“See? Nothing to worry about,” Izumi teases, even though his own cheeks are flushed now, and he grabs at Leo with one hand that’s now nicely sticky compared to the other. “Let’s see—first things first—“ He tugs Leo’s shirt up and over his head, and fumbles with his belt. “Don’t worry, Milord,” he hums, dropping the heavy leather with a clunk. He abruptly pushes a few glasses and plates out of the way on the table, and then scoops Leo up, tossing him down onto the table, flat on his back, all the better to divest him of his boots. “Your bastard page will take _excellent_ care of you.” 

Leo yanks at his own laces, getting them open with a whine and shoving them down, getting them at least twisted around his ankles before he reaches up to grab at Izumi, eyes glazed, face hot. “Everyone’s looking at me,” he breathes, cheeks red with the embarrassment of it, bringing up a hand to cover himself. Some of the guests are more polite than others, but that just means they’re pretending to look away whenever he catches their eyes. Arashi and Tsukasa, on the other hand, stare right back at him, and it makes him shiver and squirm. “This is...they’re _looking_ at me, I can’t...”

“Mnn, you can, I told you, I’m taking care of you.” Izumi yanks Leo’s breeches off the rest of the way, leaving them on the floor before he presses up between his spread thighs, leaning over him with his mouth hot on his throat. “Don’t hide, you’re _so_ lovely,” he breathes, fumbling to uncork one of the vials of oil. It tips entirely over his fingers, which is good enough for now, when he immediately reaches down with those slick fingers to drag them over that tight little hole. “I’ll make you feel so good you can’t think about anything else,” Izumi lowly promises, biting down on a groan when he slides one finger home, and then a second, not waiting, too eager to feel the sweet, hot clench of Leo again when he _knows_ just how to touch. 

Leo’s eyes roll back into his head, and he cries out, not bothering to smother his exclamation when Izumi is laying him out as if it’s an exhibition, as if it’s _good_ for all these fine nobles to see their prince squealing with a finger up his arse. “Don’t make me wait,” he pleads, feeling his cock so hard it drips all over his belly in a steady trickle. “I’ll--die if you don’t put it in, teach me the shape again, it’s meant to be in me, my love--”

Shu discreetly pulls out a little notebook into his lap, taking notes of things to say that are undeniably arousing.

“Shh, shh, let me play with you a little, you’re so…” Izumi’s voice catches up in his throat as he leans back, rocking onto his heels, letting all of those eyes roam over Leo without his own body obscuring him for a moment. His fingers slide in deep, curling back slowly, stroking deliberately, and he licks his lips, eyes lidded as he watches the way Leo moves, the way his thighs tremble. “Perfect,” he breathes, smoothing his other hand down the inside of one of Leo’s thighs, taking his time with fucking him with just his fingers. _He’s_ not as drunk as he let on—which is new, considering he’s always been a lightweight, and vaguely annoying, but he’ll fake it all he wants if it gets results like this. “Somehow…I think you’ve gotten a few new freckles. How, it’s still winter.” 

“Out in the Sandlands,” Leo breathes, clutching at the table, winding up with a hand on Tsukasa’s wrist by accident and just letting it be, nails digging into the skin. “L-looking for you, ahh, bastard page, you’re being so awful to your prince, showing me to all these p-people...hnn...” 

But it feels good. The fingers inside him know him better than he knows himself, opening him like something that’s been gift-wrapped just for Izumi, making him shudder and squirm, and the eyes on him make him arch, chest thrusting into the air as if begging to be touched.

Tsukasa’s breath hitches loudly, and he reaches over compulsively, unable to help himself. Before his fingers can close around one of Leo’s perfect, pink nipples, however, Izumi lunges forward with a sharp hiss, teeth bared, eyes blazing, and Tsukasa bolts backwards, dislodging Leo’s hold on his wrist and scooting his chair back _several_ paces. 

“Mine,” Izumi lowly, dangerously warns, his hand pulling free to yank at his own laces. His cock is so hard he can barely think, and it rubs against the inside of Leo’s thigh, hot and dripping as he presses Leo down against the table with his own weight, sucking on the side of his neck, biting with every intention of leaving bruises that he can savor. “Mine, you’re _mine_ , _”_ he pants out, reaching down to guide his cock to that slick hole, and the dripping head of it is the next thing Leo feels before he shoves in, hard and deep, filling him in one long thrust.

Leo doesn’t even try to smother this cry, head rolling back, mouth open as he shouts. Makoto breathes out a spell, and the doors seal against sound along with the magic seals already in place (by far stronger and more skilled wizards than himself). “N-no one can hear,” he says softly, eyes locked on where Izumi’s gorgeous cock slides into his future king’s tight hole. It would be easy, he thinks suddenly, to walk up behind Izumi, slide deep into him while this is happening--

No. This isn’t for him. One look at Leo’s face is enough to tell Makoto that.

Leo keens low in his throat, tears welling in his eyes with the stretch of it, and the sheer stretch of him around Izumi’s perfect thick cock. His thighs tremble, and he struggles to spread them wider, grabbing at Izumi, nails dragging down his back. “Where you belong,” he groans.

“You remember now? How it fits inside of you?” Izumi rasps, leaning back enough to grab for Leo’s legs, hiking them up and urging them to drape over his shoulders. It’s _much_ easier to fuck Leo like this, especially when his hands drag up to grab him by the waist, pulling him into each thrust when he shoves in deep. As far as he’s concerned, no one else is in this damned room—it’s just him and Leo, with Leo laid out like a damned banquet on the table, flushed and trembling with his hair mussed and splayed out across the tablecloth. “You look,” he grunts, grinding in harder, his breath hiccuping when he _feels_ the way Leo arches, starting from that tight squeeze inside, “l-like you remember.” 

“That,” Mika hushedly insists, biting at Arashi’s earlobe. “ _That’s_ what I mean when I tell y’t’break me in half.” 

“I get it now,” Arashi whispers, letting his hand delve under Mika’s robes to cup and stroke him, rubbing a thumb over the head to smear the sticky fluid dripping from the slit. “Rub down on me again, _amaka_ , you feel so good.” 

Leo’s chest convulses in a sob, toes curling in the air. “Harder,” he groans, rocking down against Izumi’s cock, desperate for every centimeter, needing to be filled and taken and fucked in front of everyone he cares about. “You’re so--ahh, my love, you’re so--thick, it’s so--”

He wraps his arms around Izumi’s neck, trying to urge him in deeper, grabbing Izumi in a filthy kiss, tongue lashing against Izumi’s lip, teeth grazing.

Izumi’s hands fist against the table as he gives into Leo’s pull, shoving his tongue into his mouth, coaxing out Leo’s until he can suck on it when he thrusts in hard, deliberately grinding in to make _sure_ he’s pressing just right when he does. “Good, yeah?” he gasps, drawing back from Leo’s mouth with a flick of his tongue, snapping the sticky strand attaching their mouths. He can’t help himself—he _has_ to pinch one of Leo’s nipples, drawing out the gentle pull with a long thrust of his hips that makes their skin slap together obscenely. “Should I start showing them what _really_ gets you off, Milord? You’ve always liked the lewd things I tell you in private, but…” 

“Do it,” Mika catcalls, grinning with a little hitch of breath as he squirms back into Arashi’s lap, sighing when Arashi’s fingers stroke and rub along his cock. “Nnn… _kara_ , you can put it in,” he lowly murmurs, letting his head loll back against Arashi’s shoulder. “I don’t miiind.” 

Arashi grins, rucking up Mika’s robes in the back, leaning in to whisper, “Let’s be quiet, I want to hear what gets our prince off so...ahh, _amaka_ , you’re not wearing underwear or even breeches, how _naughty_...” 

He works himself out of his breeches, dumping out what’s left of another of his oil vials, not even bothering with preparation as he guides it into Mika’s hole, feeling it welcome him in as if he should always be there as he lets out a long sigh. 

“Do it,” Leo groans, knowing full well that he’s laid out like an offering, mind stolen when Izumi yanks on his nipple like that. “L-let them know, I--I don’t care, just make me come, I’m so hard, my love, it _hurts_ \--”

Mika arches back with a low, satisfied purr, settling back with another, rumbling little noise when he sinks down until it looks as if he’s simply sitting in Arashi’s lap, as per usual. “That’s _so_ nice,” he murmurs, eyes fluttering, squirming just enough to splay his legs wider, his lips parted. 

Izumi’s mouth curls, his smile decidedly wicked as he twists on that same nipple, drawing out the pull with a long, deliberate suck on the side of Leo’s neck. “You don’t care? Ahh…good, then I can make sure they all see how much you love being bred like a mare in heat,” he groans, their hips slapping together loudly as he shoves Leo down against the table. “You must have been dying after all this time, needing me to show up and breed you like this—“

Mika swallows a little too loudly, and idly clamps a hand over his own mouth to keep back the curse that escapes when his body reflexively clenches down _hard._

“Careful, sweet,” Arashi breathes, nipping at the lobe of Mika’s ear. “Be sweet to it, it’s not made of wood. Isn’t that nice, it fits so right in you.”

Shu’s hand is shaky on his pen, and he only manages to jot out a few notes before he has to reach for his wine, tipping a hefty mouthful into his throat to steady his nerves. 

Leo nods frantically, spilling over his stomach at the familiar, perfectly sinful words that always go straight to his belly, making him burn and thrash on Izumi’s cock. “Perfect,” he whimpers, shivering and rocking down as much as he can, feeling sweat drip down his neck. “Give me an heir, my stallion--nnh, I try to do it alone but it _never_ feels like you--”

Izumi’s laugh is breathless, low and throaty as he grinds in with a harsh pant. “D-don’t worry, love—I know you’ve been waiting so long, it’s got to take this time, I—“

Wringing Leo dry and leaving him writhing and squirming for even longer sounds like a _delightful_ idea, but his body has other plans when he spares one glance down at Leo, at his face slack with pleasure, sweaty and sticky and mussed and looking _nothing_ like how a respectable heir to the throne should. He groans helplessly, his fingers bunching the tablecloth as he thrusts in hard, his cock pulsing and twitching as it empties inside. “There,” he pants out, dragging a shaky hand down through the mess on Leo’s stomach before he gently presses down. “Maybe…ah, maybe I should do it again, just to make sure I’ve got an heir in here…”

“I don’t want to think the snake is sexy,” Mika softly groans against Arashi’s neck, pawing at one of his hands, trying to relax even when he’s now a shivery, _much_ more aroused mess. “This isn’t faiiir.” 

Tsukasa, abruptly, forces himself to his feet, no matter how he wobbles. “Good night,” he dazedly says, snatching up his coat to leave. 

“Tell her I said hi,” Leo calls with a slow, delicious smile, stretching out like a cat, nuzzling up against Izumi’s hair. “Hnnn, Izumiiii, my love, it hurts, there’s too much in me...”

Arashi grunts into Mika’s neck, grabbing at his hips, moving him just the slightest bit, rocking into him in the least obvious way he can, breath hot against his neck. “You’re so lovely, my darling, aren’t they pretty? You want me to take you like that later, hmm?”

“Too much? But I don’t wanna take it out yet…” Izumi complains, stealing a kiss from Leo’s mouth before he slowly rocks backward, collapsing back into his seat and dragging Leo down into his lap with him without pulling out in the slightest. His hands pet down Leo’s back, up through his sweaty hair, and he kisses over his bare shoulder. “Mmn, just stay like this for a little while, love, then I’ll take you to bed, you feel so good…”

Mika swallows hard, shutting his eyes as his head fall forward, his breath coming faster no matter how he _tries_ not to look too obvious. Easier said than done, when his cheeks are already tinting red. “Mm..mmhm, y’can do it to me whenever you want,” he whispers, helplessly grabbing for the arm of the chair to keep himself braced up and off of Arashi’s cock, just a _little_ , enough that Arashi has room to actually move and rock up into him. 

A scrape of a chair’s leg alerts Shu, and he looks over, face flushing harder than it had looking at Leo and Izumi’s entire display, watching Mika squirming in an obfuscatory fashion on Arashi’s lap, both of them gasping and rocking. “Mika, control yourself,” he hisses, averting his eyes when he remembers to. 

“Let him live, Shu,” Arashi murmurs lazily, sliding deep inside Mika, just barely managing to avoid groaning. “We’re all having a good time, aren’t we? Ahh...that’s good, darling, that’s so good--”

Leo whines, squeezing down around Izumi’s cock, and yanks on a strand of too-short hair. “Don’t pull out,” he orders. “Get hard again. Do me again. And again. And when you get sick of my arse, feed it to me.”

“Give me literally…two seconds,” Izumi breathes, his head falling back when Leo squeezes down on him like that. “Ahh…gods, Leo, you feel perfect.” His hands paw down to grip his ass, giving it a slow, firm squeeze before a finger teasingly drags around where they’re still connected, feeling how stretched Leo’s hole is. “I’m _not_ getting sick of this anytime soon, fair warning. Sure you don’t want to point me towards your room?” 

Mika whimpers in spite of himself, his body squeezing down with a long, slow spasm of muscle when Arashi slides in so deeply that his eyes cross. “S…sorry, Master, I…” He licks at his lips, his fingers digging hard into the arm of the chair. “I’m _not_ sorry,” he finishes with a breathless little laugh. “Arashi…feels s-so good…”

“Bend him over the table,” Izumi languidly suggests, leaning back to get a better look when he can’t _quite_ help himself. “Damn, Arashi. How does it all fit in there?” 

“My darling boy here is just so hungry for it,” Arashi murmurs, pressing a kiss to Mika’s jaw, hands languid on his hips. “Want to show off, _amaka_? Take our turn? Or just let them keep squirming and wishing they could see how beautiful you are under these robes?”

Leo ignores them, leaning up to whisper in Izumi’s ear, “We’re not leaving, you haven’t filled me nearly enough. I want to be so full of you that I feel sick, you hear me? Do your duty to your prince, I’m definitely not properly bred yet...”

Izumi swears he feels all of the blood rushing to his cock in a second. “You’re gonna regret saying that,” he groans, his nails biting into Leo’s hips when he shoves up, letting Leo feel exactly how hard he is, his attention abruptly and very _firmly_ on Leo. “Don’t princes need to walk in the morning? Too bad, if you ask me…” 

“You…can d-do whatever y’want to me, _kara…”_ Mika breathes, even though his fingers are already prying apart the fastenings of his robes, letting them slink down his shoulders. He’s completely naked underneath, of course, and his fingers slide down his own chest to absent twist a nipple, making him shiver visibly as he squirms on Arashi’s cock. “Nnn, Master…and…ahh..what was your name, whatever…y’can watch, if you want…” 

“Sorry I’m here,” Makoto whispers, hands folded in his lap so tightly his knuckles creak. Everyone else here seems to have some kind of relationship to each other, or at least somewhere to go, but he just bites his lip, trying not to watch too obviously.

That’s the last straw for Arashi, and he stands, urging Mika up over the table, replacing Mika’s fingers with his own, biting at his shoulder, sliding back hard so he can drive in fast. “No need to apologize, my darling Mika loves being watched--don’t you _amaka_? Tell the nice boy how it makes you feel.”

“We’ve both been celibate for too long,” Shu admits, with a wry twist of his mouth as he reaches into his own robes, still a little surprised to find nothing more than cloth. “If anyone understands, it’s another wizard.”

Leo bites Izumi’s ear, hard, and squeezes down, eyes rolling back in his head. “You’ll have to carry me everywhere tomorrow,” he breathes, then winces when it’s too much, even as he tries to squirm down harder. “And j-just tell everyone you had me too thoroughly.”

Mika’s back arches, his painted nails scraping over the tablecloth as he arches his back with a gasping, throaty moan. It’s a _much_ nicer angle, letting Arashi slide up into him just right, and he stretches up onto his tiptoes when his toes curl and flex so hard that it almost makes his calves cramp. “I….ahh…I l-look best like this, I think,” he groans, letting his head thunk down against the table, his hair spilling free of its ribbon when he thrashes. “ _Karaa…_ y…y’feel so big in me, do it harderrr…nnn, come here,” he breathes, crooking a finger towards Makoto. “I’ll make you feel good.” 

Izumi breathes hard, his hands closing firmly around Leo’s hips to pull him down onto his cock as far as he can. Listening to the noises Leo is making is _more_ than enough already—the breathless words coming from Mika, more throaty and accented the longer he’s fucked, another level of overstimulation that makes his cock twitch where it’s buried, rubbing up inside of Leo hard and deep. “Everyone already knows,” he breathes against Leo’s ear, rocking up into him slowly, his fingers wandering up to slowly play with his nipples. “The prince is just his page’s pretty little mare. I don’t have to explain anything to anyone.” 

Leo shakes his head, too overstimulated to talk, just squeaking every time Izumi swells and thrusts into him, tears spilling from his eyes as his cock hardens between them. One of his hands reaches down to press against the flat plane of his belly, trying to imagine Izumi being able to come in him enough that he really _could_ feel it from the outside, and he shudders so hard he nearly comes again just at that thought. “M-maybe give me a whole litter, then,” he groans, thighs trembling from being so tense. “Gods, I--I just--keep me on a lead, I--” He doesn’t even know what he’s begging for anymore, wanting to play along but so aroused he’s lightheaded.

Makoto stumbles out of his chair, as if Mika’s beckoning was more like magic than a suggestion, walking slowly towards him. The prominent shape at the front of his robes makes him flush, but if Mika is _offering_... “Y-you don’t have, to,” he whispers, reaching out and touching that curling hair, eyes on where Arashi thrusts in deep, riding into him like he was born to do it. “Ah, Captain, please don’t kill--”

“Mika’s an adult and he makes his own choices,” Arashi murmurs, mouth fixed to Mika’s neck, cock thrusting in deep. “Ahh, Izumi, look how nice it fits in here, and he’s still begging for more, isn’t he wonderful?”

Mika’s eyes roll back for a moment, his lips parting for his tongue to flick out and wet them. “J…jus’ like that, _kara,_ ” he groans, his hand smacking down against the table as he grabs helplessly for Makoto, his mismatched eyes heavily lidded and dark. “I bet,” he breathes, grabbing for Makoto’s hand to bring it to his mouth, his tongue flicking out to drag over the tip of his thumb like it would something _far_ less innocent, “I can make y’come just like this. But, ah…you’ve never had a mouth on your dick before, have you? Maybe I should spoil you…” 

“Gods,” Izumi mutters, having to shut his own eyes for a moment. Mika _moves_ like he knows what he’s doing, and it inspires a few thoughts— _I’d pay for that, so help me_ —that he’s not exactly proud of having about Arashi’s lover…even if they make his dick harder. “I bet you could take more, too,” he murmurs into Leo’s ear, idly dragging his hand down to press over Leo’s, his own breath stuttering as he imagines what he’s about to say out loud. His cock throbs, already threatening to spill again, and his hips jerk up too-roughly when Leo squirms on him. “Two cocks in you—I could feel them right here so easily. With two of us coming in you…you’d be _too_ full, but you’d like that, huh? And we could stay in you so it won’t drip out, and you could just feel how slick and messy you are for _hours_ …” 

“Then grow another,” Leo groans helplessly, nails digging into Izumi’s shoulders. “B-because it’s only you, it’s only ever you--h-how else are you going to know it’s your heir, hmmm?” 

Makoto fumbles in his robes, helpless to refuse when Mika says something like _that_ , pulling his laces free to yank his cock out properly. “Please,” he begs, looking from Mika to Arashi and back again. “Even if--if you just touch it a little, that’s--you’re so attractive, my gods--”

“Go on, _amaka_ ,” Arashi murmurs, grabbing Mika’s hand and moving it to the front of Makoto’s robe. “You want it in your mouth? You’re always so hungry to have it in your belly, I never quite get to let you have a taste lately...”

“Yeah, you’re bad, teasin’ me all the time,” Mika pouts, even as he wriggles back encouragingly, the movement wringing a sigh from his lips. Arashi’s cock fits so perfectly in him that the longer it’s there, the better, even when he starts to ache…but he likes that, too, and he feels his own cock twitch when he shifts. His fingers untie and unlace swiftly, even as they tremble, and he’s pleasantly surprised with how _nice_ Makoto’s cock actually is. “Good,” he mutters, twisting a little when his fingers curl around it, squeezing, stroking slowly, teasing a droplet of precome to the tip. “Nnn, you can pet my hair while I suck it, I like that. Mm, Master, I’ve got another hand, if you wanna…or will the Demon King get mad at me?” 

_Arashi, how do you handle that all the time?_ Izumi’s going to have to ask later, but right now—“The real heirs will have silver hair, _obviously_ ,” he lowly teases, but his cock is too hard to think beyond getting off now, and he thrusts up hard with a grunt, pushing Leo back against the side of the table again. “Doesn’t matter, I’ll come in you so much it feels like there are two of me,” he mutters, squeezing handfuls of Leo’s ass as he fucks in, content to just use him for a few more thrusts before he comes with a ragged gasp, face buried into Leo’s neck. Even with his cock buried in as far as it is, he can feel some of the mess drip down over his thighs—too much, after the first time, he supposes—and he gives one of Leo’s nipples a pinch. “Tighten up, or it’s gonna go everywhere, Milord.” 

“Rude,” Leo whines, but that doesn’t stop his body from seizing up, trembling from head to toe when he comes again for what feels like a year, clenching and spasming around Izumi’s cock. He feels full now, as if Izumi’s pumped in far more than what a normal man could come, and that makes him pant shallowly, desperate for air. “Th-there’s so much, I just--ahh, it’s cramping, I’m--sore, it’s so--don’t you dare pull out--”

Shu waves Mika’s hand away, but gives him a small smile. “I’ve waited and watched for six years, I’ll be fine. Have fun.”

Makoto doesn’t even pretend at self-control anymore, not when Mika has such a lovely hand and lovelier mouth trying to get at him. He ruts forward, the head of his cock bumping against Mika’s lip, and bites his own fist, then drops his hand, tangling in Mika’s hair as he’d been instructed. “You’re very talented,” he says softly, cock so hard it hurts. 

“Mm, isn’t he?” Arashi moans, kissing Mika’s neck again, reaching around to rub at his chest. “We could make quite a lot if we rented him out. Don’t you think so, Izumi?”

Izumi’s mind is already in the process of shutting _entirely_ off, but Arashi’s words abruptly drag him back. He groans, raking sweaty hair out of his face, his hips involuntarily jerking up into Leo for a last time. “You said it first, not me,” he breathes, his head tilting back so he can get a good look at where Arashi’s cock sinks deep into Mika’s body, his fingers slowly petting down Leo’s sweat-slick back.

Mika’s voice is muffled around Makoto’s cock when his lips part to let it slide into his mouth. It’s thicker than it looks, even, and his jaw already aches, but his tongue quickly goes to work, rubbing and curling against the underside of it as he sucks Makoto down. The hand in his hair makes him shiver, but Arashi’s fingers, warm and calloused, dragging against his nipples, make him arch, and he chokes on a groan, his eyes sliding shut as he squirms forward, just enough to get all of Makoto’s cock down his throat. He swallows visibly, his cheeks ruddy, but Mika barely even seems fazed by it, even when Arashi’s thrusting hips shove his face forward, and a muffled whine squeaks out. 

“…Gods,” Izumi mutters, wiping a hand down his face. “And I thought I was good at that. Put to shame. Ah, here, Leo, more wine?” There’s a half-full goblet within reach, why not. 

Makoto loves the idea of being able to last--but Arashi and Mika have been going for quite a while, and it seems impossible that he’ll manage to get through this without embarrassing himself. It takes fewer than three thrusts against Mika’s sweet hot mouth before he spills, remembering belatedly to try and pull out, and only managing to come both in his mouth and on his face. “S-sorry, sorry, I didn’t feel it coming, I--”

“Don’t apologize, he likes it, right, _amaka_?” Arashi breathes in Mika’s ear, feeling himself close as hell to the edge, wanting to make dead sure that Mika is taken care of before he lets go. “You got a nice mouthful, right, darling? Why don’t you show us how much you liked it, be a good boy and show us your pretty face when you come.”

Mika barely coughs, even as his head rolls to the side, the sticky mess dripping off of his lips and cheeks before he wipes it off with trembling fingers. “Y’taste good,” he pants out in-between sucking his fingers clean, his eyes rolling back when his cock throbs just from Arashi’s words alone. He whimpers, pawing a hand back helplessly, trying to grab for whatever part of Arashi that he can reach. “I…nnn… _kara_ , help, I…” 

It’s not like he _needs_ help, not in the slightest, not when this is the only time he _likes_ having eyes on him—but it feels good, being pampered and taken care of and getting _everything_ he wants. “P…please…come in me, then I’ll…” 

“Shh, shh, I’ve got you.”

Arashi never appreciates his stamina more than now, when he can use it to take care of Mika, to touch and stroke in the kindest, gentlest of ways, rocking deep into him with sweet kisses. “That’s a good boy, you’re so good, you’re _all_ mine--”

He slams in deep, giving in and letting himself finally go, spilling deep, deep inside Mika as he groans, holding him by the hips, one hand coming down to curl around his cock, stroking quickly. “Do it for me, show everyone how pretty you are.”

Mika’s lost in an instant, before Arashi even gets a hand on his cock. It’s how it feels when Arashi comes in him more than anything, the way his cock throbs when it’s buried so deeply inside, and he whimpers, lips parted and trembling, eyes squeeze tightly shut as he comes, spilling helplessly over Arashi’s fingers. “’s good, so good,” he groans, his back arched and trembling as he slumps over the table, overstimulated and _very_ sated. It’s one of the last things he manages to say in the common tongue, with everything that follows, a content, mumbling little praise. 

“…How do you keep up with that on a regular basis?” Izumi can’t help but ask Arashi, his eyebrows arched high. “Damn.” 

“It was easier when he was forced to be celibate,” Arashi says wearily, but contentedly, flopping back in the chair and dragging Mika onto his lap. “But I don’t mind a little hard work now and then, eh, darling?”

Shu shuts his notebook, then nods to the attended audience and stands, striding out of the room without another word, letting the door close firmly behind him. 

Leo droops over Izumi’s shoulders, grimacing. “I’m kinda afraid of what’ll happen when you pull out,” he admits. “Guess you’ll have to stay in forever.”

“There’s spells to make it hard,” Mika cheerfully, but dazedly manages to say after another moment of breathing hard. “’s good. I’m good at it.”

“Good luck, Captain,” Izumi says with a laugh, and gives Leo’s ass a gentle pinch. “We’re not sleeping in here. I want a _real_ bed, I haven’t had one in…gods, I don’t even know how long.” Izumi’s eyes lid, and he lets them slide over to Makoto. “Mm, Yuukun—how’s life as a free man treating you? Fun, right?” 

“Better than I expected,” Makoto says shakily, sliding into a chair next to Izumi. “Wow. At the Academy we used to joke about how they’d always overplay the danger of sex lurking around every corner, but so far, it seems pretty accurate.”

Leo nuzzles under Izumi’s chin. “I think that’s just when this bastard page is around. Whenever he’s gone, I do _not_ find this to be the case.”

“Maybe you should stop being so damned cute when I’m around then,” Izumi grouses, grabbing Leo’s face and kissing him hard. “Right, I can swaddle you like a child and carry you back to your chambers, but you have to get off of me first, and let me at least put my pants on.” 

Leo harrumphs at him, then tries to move, stops, and shrugs. “You can move me around. My legs aren’t working.”

“Oookay, up we go, Milord.” Izumi can’t resist teasing, just a little, when Leo is about as floppy and useless as he’s ever been, and he gingerly helps him off of his cock and onto the table instead. “There we are. Ah, where did I even _throw_ my pants…” 

“Over there,” Mika offers on a yawn, fluttering a hand to the far left of Izumi’s chair, snuggling up comfortable into Arashi’s chest. 

“Excellent, these are coming right off again once I’m behind a closed door,” Izumi mutters, yanking them up and lacing them in a hurry before he grabs up Leo’s clothing as well. Dressing him is a joke right now—draping him in clothing once Izumi picks him up into a neat princess carry is much better idea. “Point the way, Milord,” Izumi hums, stooping once to snatch up Leo’s boots as well and set them on top of him. “The rest of you have a _lovely_ evening.” 

“Bye bye,” Leo sing-songs, curled up and nestled into Izumi’s chest. “Ah, Izumi, I’m leaking _everywhere_. Yuck.”

“Mmhm, you’re gross,” Izumi says, unfazed, kicking the door shut behind them. “Let’s bathe before bed, then we’ll both wake up feeling less like we want to die.” 

“Don’t care, let me drip for a year. Better yet, shove one of those glass plugs in me to keep it inside. Or just keep your cock in me for a year, I’ll--”

“Ah, you must be Lord Izumi!” Tsumugi bows, though his cheeks flush suddenly hot at the sight of Leo _en deshabile_. “Ah....er....w-welcome?”

“Hush, Milord,” Izumi mutters, hastily covering Leo’s face with his shirt. Maybe that’ll shut him up, at least. “Ah. Hello. Yes, I’m…Lord Izumi. I’m afraid I missed your name.” 

“Ah, sorry, that’s definitely my fault, it’s Tsumugi. A pleasure to meet you, I’ve heard quite a bit about you.” 

Leo’s voice is muffled against the shirt. “You made me this way!”

“Hopefully only good things,” Izumi grinds out, pointedly ignoring Leo. “Can I trouble you to be pointed in the direction of the baths? Milord here has made quite a mess of himself over dinner and I’d like to take care of him.” 

“It’s true, I’m covered in Lord Izumi’s sauce!”

Tsumugi smiles blandly and points. “I can have a boy show you the way, if you’d like. Hajime,” he calls, looking around.

“I’m going to beat you over the head,” Izumi hisses into Leo’s ear. “Thank you, I don’t need a guide,” he says to Tsumugi, turning in the direction he pointed and giving Leo’s ass a pinch as he strides briskly down the hall. “Is this the sort of beast you’ve become in my absence?” Sniffing out water, at least, is an easy task, especially when he can hear it when he’s half-way down the hall. “ _Honestly_ , Leo, even if you’re drunk, I don’t know that man, it’s for the best if you—“

He nudges the door open with his foot, fully intending to continue scolding Leo when the sight that greets him in the bathing room makes him nearly bolt out of the room again. “Milady—my apologies, I—“

Complete with enormous dress, skirts, and corset tossed across the floor, the lady in question scowls, long red hair bound up and clipped to the back of her head to avoid getting it wet. “Save it,” she snaps, hauling herself from the tub—to reveal that it isn’t a woman at all, but instead, a boy in his late teens…with a face _certainly_ lovely enough to make him easily mistaken as a woman any day of the week. “I was just leaving. You look like a mess, Your Highness,” he curtly says, hopping out of the water daintily and wrapping himself in a huge, fluffy robe, letting his hair loose, sending it in a rolling cascade of red—and strangely enough, white, now that Izumi looks beyond the pretty face—all down his back. 

“Oh, I know you!” Leo wriggles out of Izumi’s arms, flapping his way into the bathtub and grinning up. “You’re Natsume, right? We met when I did my tour of the Academy a couple years ago--aren’t you the youngest Nightcloak ever?”

“Of course you’re a wizard,” Izumi mutters, dropping all of their clothes and just burying his face into his hands for a moment. All wizards are fucking _gorgeous_ , _why_ , and on top of it, this one is confusing the hell out of his dick, looking so _much_ like a woman that it creates the mixed, horrific reaction of wanting to kiss his way into her (his) pants, and simultaneously makes him want to bolt out of the room in terror. He sucks in a calming breath, kicks off his breeches, and just pulls himself into the bathtub, dunking himself immediately underneath the water. 

Natsume stares at Izumi for a moment before he shrugs, tying his robe shut. “Yes, I’m brilliant,” he says unrepentantly, scooping up his discarded dress and other various layers from the floor. “Not that you’d know it, what with how I’m stuck here with that _idiot_ Tsumugi. Ugh, and now Rei left again, I’m gonna…” He grinds his teeth together. 

Leo beams. “I like you. You’re very rude, right? That’s good, and honest. Sorry about this bastard page, he likes men _and_ women, you’re probably confusing his penis.”

“Uh…huh.” Natsume stares down at them both through lidded eyes, waiting for Izumi to come up for air before he says, flatly, “I’m the lady of the house. You’ll need to get over it.”

“I am not going to touch you, ever,” Izumi senselessly babbles, hands up in a defensive gesture. “I swear, I promise.”

“…Whatever.” Natsume flips his hair back over his shoulder, and as he strides towards the door, Izumi _swears_ he looks exactly like a woman from behind, down to the way he _walks_. “Good night.” 

The door shuts, and Izumi groans, burying his face into his hands. “Kill me. Holy shit, kill me. She—fuck, he—fuck. How do people look like that?” 

“Do you need to put it back in?” Leo asks curiously, floating over to Izumi, looping his arms around Izumi’s neck. “I dunno how it can be so hard so soon, but wow. I can just kinda sit on it forever, I guess?”

“No, I don’t want to reward this kind of behavior,” Izumi insistently says, even though he grabs for Leo, squeezing him, shoving his face into Leo’s hair to breathe deep. “It’s just like that, it’s always been like that,” he bemoans. “I’m _trying_ to train it not to be, especially with women, but gods…” 

“Why is it girls you’re so afraid of, love?” Leo cups the water with one hand, tipping it over Izumi’s hair, washing his back gently. “Would you be afraid if I put on skirts, like we used to joke?”

“No, gods, that’s…it’s you, that’s not the same,” Izumi mutters, raking his fingers back through his hair as he leans forward. “I’m never touching a woman again. Gods, I know it sounds laughable when I say it out loud, but…” He grimaces, and lifts a finger, tapping his ear. “Remember how I used to fuck my way through the capital with every high-born lady, and wait until their husbands challenged me to duels so I could notch their ears like Northern cats? Small wonder, that they hate me more than anyone. They were easy picks for your uncle.” 

“Ahhh,” Leo says softly. He tips more water over Izumi’s head, then grabs a washcloth, rubbing it over his back. “Why not just confine yourself to prostitutes, then, if you’re trying to avoid women with husbands? You can bed women, I won’t hate you, you know.”

“I know. I just…” Izumi hesitates, then sighs, resting his chin on his knees to let Leo soothe way his lingering nervousness. “I have _bastards_. I never wanted that. Children at all, honestly, the idea scares the shit out of me. And one of the women that I bedded, she…she died, giving birth to it, and I…” He waves a hand, stressed all over again. “It’s hard not to think I deserved to die, hearing that. Gods, I never wanted that to happen. But I didn’t think about that then, so I might as well now. No more women, period.” 

Leo frowns, and shoves Izumi against the wall of the tub, glaring at him. “You’ve never raped anyone, right?”

Izumi blinks back at him, eyes wide. “No. Absolutely not, never.” 

“Then it was their choice, right? I mean, you’re ill-mannered, but sleeping with someone else’s wife is an honor crime, it’s not a _legal_ crime, or you’d be in prison. If they wanted to sleep with you...” Leo shrugs. “Then they know they might have bastards.” He pauses, then adds, “We should find them. They’re probably quite powerful, since they’re quarter-bloods.”

“That doesn’t absolve me of anything,” Izumi mutters, tilting his head back. He doesn’t argue further, though, and instead, heaves a sigh. “They won’t be hard to find,” he says. “I know the houses. But even if I didn’t—silver hair, the lot of them. And all girls.” 

“Hm, I wonder why.” Leo shrugs. “They could be very useful as Healers, if they’re anything like you. Or poison testers, at least. Mm, let me know the Houses when all of this madness is over, we’ll find them and pull them from their families. I don’t doubt that they’ll have a rather terrible life due to parentage, eh? I’ll leave that to you, you can consider that your official penance.”

“…I was already planning on…doing something, I don’t know, taking them to the North, if nothing else,” Izumi quietly admits, shrugging. “As soon as I could, obviously. You know, because once I kill the rest of their House, I might as well take care of them.” 

“Mm, yes, might as well,” Leo agrees, and flops backwards, rinsing out his hair. “You clean me down there, you messed it up. And be _gentle_ , please.”

“Sit up a bit, then, Milord,” Izumi dryly says, forcing himself upright with a weary sigh. “I’ll even heal everything, but it might feel odd, heh.” 

He grabs up one of the washcloths, rubbing it down Leo’s back first, then dipping it down to _gently_ clean away what the water already hasn’t. Healing Leo, at least, is becoming more second nature than anything…or maybe, it’s just not quite as hard as it used to be to extend it to other people. He supposes he _did_ heal Arashi’s broken cheekbone earlier without even feeling dizzy. “You know,” he quietly says, “I would greatly _prefer_ to never touch another man again, other than you.” 

Leo sighs in relief, clinging to the side of the tub, letting the rest of himself float. “I didn’t realize how much that hurt until it stopped. Mm, you can’t leave my side anymore, obviously. I wonder why you need women, if I’m enough man for you? Maybe I’ll get one of those wizards to give me multiple parts so I can be your lady _and_ your prince, would that do it?”

“That’s…no, don’t do that, I don’t even think that’s a thing they can do, and it wouldn’t make a difference,” Izumi wryly says, wringing out the cloth and continuing to stroke down the backs of Leo’s thighs, wiping him clean as much as he tries to soothe away any little bruises he might have left. He’s not going to bother fixing Leo’s neck up yet, that’s for him to enjoy until later. “I’m _not_ touching women again, that’s nonnegotiable. But other men…I…I don’t know why I’m like this. It’s not something I’ve ever given much thought to, before now, but now it just _irritates_ me. Like, you’d be right here, and if Arashi walked in, my first thought would probably be ‘I wonder if I can get him to kiss me.’ Why, who knows.”

Leo shrugs. “I mean, I’m willing to believe it’s a function of you being a half-blood if you are. Otherwise, you’re just a bit of an ass, aren’t you? Your prince should really be enough for you, or you’re going to give him a complex.”

He lets his feet drift down to the floor, sighing as he stretches. “And what’s wrong with prostitutes, eh?”

“ _Can_ we just blame it on me being a half-blood?” Izumi wearily asks. “I honestly think you’re the most beautiful man alive, I _swear_ I do, I want nothing more than to stay in _your_ bed, and your bed only. I think I nearly bit off Tsukasa’s hand when he tried to touch you tonight, if I’m remembering correctly. I just…” 

He flutters an irritated hand, tosses the washcloth aside, and slides up next to Leo again, knocking his head back against the side of the tub. “Prostitutes…paying for sex is no good, no part of that appeals. Diseases, dirtiness, I don’t want any part of it, plus I’ve heard too many stories about what they go through to feel all right about it. Plus, it’s _very_ cute that you think I can do that regularly on a soldier’s salary, let alone a page’s nonexistent one.” 

Leo looks into Izumi’s eyes, and flops back, letting his toes rise up through the surface of the water. “All right, then keep fucking your friends, I trust them all. But whenever I want you, I’ve got you, yes? That’s what I care about, wahahaha!”

“You can restrict me more than that,” Izumi insists, grabbing at Leo to hug him close, burying his face back down into his hair. “But—but obviously, I’m yours whenever you want me, I’m _always_ yours. I’m _not_ leaving your side again, I’ll kill anyone that tries to take you from me.” 

Leo’s mouth quirks in a sour little smirk. “What restrictions would you like, then, that make you feel like I’d be satisfied? I just want to have you whenever I want you, you know. Just because I’ve got to be otherwise celibate because I’m the prince doesn’t mean you should have to be--and honestly, you’re a lot to keep up with, you know!”

“I don’t know. Whatever you want. If you wanted me to only be yours, I’d do it.” Izumi pauses. “I was going to say ‘you don’t have to be celibate, Kasa wants you to climb him like a tree’, but then I realized I’d kill him, so that just doesn’t work.” 

“A king’s arsehole means something to people, for whatever reason,” Leo says with a sigh. “And I don’t want any other men but you. I’m taking a big enough risk by being with you, you know.”

“I know.” Izumi’s eyes lid. “And…I know I’ve said it before, but you being the prince—that means nothing to me. The big, soft bed means something to me,” he gently teases, pulling on a strand of Leo’s hair. “But the title means nothing. If for some reason, all of this goes to hell even more and we can’t pull it back…I _will_ run away with you and be a commoner with you for the rest of my life.” 

The smile Leo gives Izumi is a bit weary, but not in a physical way. “Sometimes I think the realm would be better off if I did,” he admits. “Tsukasa is a good boy. They want to marry him to my sister, so his claim will be very secure. He’ll probably be a better king than I ever would be, don’t you think?”

“Mm, no.” 

“He’s a good kid,” he says. “And he’ll be a good leader…of something that isn’t a kingdom. To me, he’s too overbearing on some issues, too relenting on others…I don’t know.” Izumi shrugs. “I don’t think he understands anything beyond the high echelon noble class. He’s mystified that some nobles have to make their own breakfast and train their own horses, imagine.” 

“But that can be learned, and trained,” Leo says softly. “I didn’t understand anything other than the high echelon of the noble class until I met you. He’s served as a page, so he knows how to saddle and groom his horse and someone else’s, and he knows how to serve, and presumably has gotten lessons on how to lead.”

Izumi gently swats the side of Leo’s head. “But he doesn’t _care_. Not in the same way that you do. He cares when it’s people that are close to him—and that’s not a bad thing. But _you_ care beyond that, and it’s obvious how much things pain you. It’s a different sort of leadership, Leo, and Tsukasa, for as good as he is, lacks the same sort of drive that your own father does. A good boy, and one I trust, but not one I’d ever trust as king.” 

The words should be just so much white noise. Leo doesn’t really know, beyond the fact that he’s been exhausted for so long, the fact that he’s missed Izumi for so long, _doubted_ himself for so long, why those words go to his heart and make him tear up, blinking rapidly to no avail, hot tears splashing down his face. “I...you really do think I’ll be a good king?”

“Ahh, don’t cry, don’t cry…” Izumi frets, grabbing Leo’s face up in his hands and dragging his thumbs over his cheeks, firmly trying to rub the tears off of it. “You idiot—why else would I be here? I mean, you’re lovely and I’m vain,” he reasons jokingly. “But…I’d never kneel to a man that I didn’t think honestly deserved that throne. I’ve lowered my head for your father, but I’ve never taken a proper knee for him, and I won’t ever.” Izumi gently squishes Leo’s face between his hands. “As far as I’m concerned, you _are_ the king right now.” 

“I just thought you loved me,” Leo confesses, wiping at his own face, then blinking up at Izumi. The tears still won’t stop, and he doesn’t try to stop them anymore. “I mean...you’ve been mine for so long, I’d do anything for you, but...” He laughs at himself through the tears, hands resting on Izumi’s shoulders. “It’s hard to think myself worthy of loyalty like this.”

“The fact I love you is a given, but it has nothing to do with whether or not I think you’d make a good king.” Izumi shakes his head, sliding his hands up to muss Leo’s hair. “You’re…you’re just a good _man_ , you know?” It’s embarrassing to say it that way, but it’s true, so he forces himself to be honest. “Anyone would die for you. I just happened to do it first, heh. And then I came back, so I could do it again.”

“Just...you’re never allowed to stay dead,” Leo orders, rubbing at his wet cheeks. “You can die as many times as you have to as long as you come back to me after each one. That’s a promise you have to make. And then we need to get out, because I’m pruning, and that’s not a good look for a king, ha!”

Because he _is_ a king, as little as he wants to be. He’s always known it was coming, but the time, he fears, is closer than he’d ever imagined.

And if Izumi believes in him, then he could be a worse king.

“I promise. Though…I think I already said before, if someone tries to pull us apart right now, I’m going to have to kill them.” 

Izumi shifts, starting to pull himself from the bath, and pulls Leo up with him. There’s an extra robe left over, dangling over a chair, and he snatches it up for Leo once he’s out of the basin, wrapping him up securely. “If you’re going to start declaring yourself king, you better do it formally,” he quietly says. “And you better hurry up and let me swear to you, so I can stop being the oldest page this kingdom has ever seen. It’s getting ridiculous, _honestly._ ” 


	22. Chapter 22

Typically, Shu doesn’t waste his time with classes. 

It’s not like Mika goes, either. To be fair, he’s either usually not allowed to, or there’s simply no point to it. There’s nothing a single teacher in the Academy can actually teach him, they’ve established that, but it doesn’t stop him from following at Shu’s heels today, to a guest lecturer that everyone is apparently dying to see.

It doesn’t take long for even Mika, only recently let out of captivity to cling to Shu’s robes and generally be considered his pet of some kind, to realize that this lecturer is special. 

Rei, first son of the Sakuma household, a rare Nightcloak wizard, is something out of legends. The way he manipulates magic and the world around him seems impossible—there’s none of the strange, scary bursts and bumps along the way that Mika has come to expect with magic users. Even Shu, a Nightcloak, doesn’t have this level of control, and it’s mystifying to watch someone with so much grace, comparable to the Emperor’s favorite, even.

No, beyond it, Mika thinks. 

The lecture ends—it was something about tapping into the world’s natural energies to augment one’s own, whatever, Mika can’t do that, so what’s the point in understanding it—and half a dozen of the braver wizards dart up to chat with Rei, gushing their praises, asking for advice. He doesn’t blow them off, like Mika expects; he’s got a gentle way of being, even if he’s tall and dark-haired and looks like he should be scary. Mika turns to look up at Shu, and his eyebrows raise, the look on Shu’s face tell-tale.

If this wasn’t about wizards, Mika would _swear_ it’s the kind of look someone gives when they want to…well. 

“Y’should go talk to him,” he whispers, giving Shu’s arm a little tug. “You’re the only Nightcloak here.” Then he pauses, and says, because if he doesn’t, no one will, “You think he’s handsome.” To be fair, Rei is—not that Mika can look for too long. His eyes hurt.

Shu stiffens, looking down at his books, stacking them neatly. Well, they were already neat, but he re-stacks them anyway, just in case their visiting professor happens to look his way. “Don’t be absurd. Wizards don’t think about things like that. We are ephemeral creatures, not those of base flesh. That you would even _ask_ is--why, is he looking at me? Did he say something?”

Mika’s eyes nearly roll out of his skull. “Yeah, he’s lookin’ at you. C’mon, Master, I’ll walk over with you.” He leans in close to Shu, whispering in his ear, “I bet he smells good…~”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Shu’s voice is too loud this time, the tips of his ears pink, and he straightens his hair frantically, fussing with the ends. “Is he looking right now? Is he laughing? Not that I care, of course, it’s just that there are so few Nightcloaks--”

“You’re moving your hands _so_ much,” Mika says, infinitely amused, and he hops out of his seat, grabbing Shu by the arm, tugging. “C’mooon, Master. I’m sure he wants to meet you—“

“Ah, Shu, was it? I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

Mika bites down a squawk and dives behind Shu, all of his own bravery gone in the instant that Rei comes to them, shrugging off the herd of other young wizards that want to ask him questions about gods know what. He smiles, pulling off his glasses and tucking them into the pocket of his robes, offering Shu a surprisingly low bow. “It’s an honor, to meet another Nightcloak in this day and age.”

Shu stares for a long moment. Rei is stunning, everything Shu has ever heard about the power and prestige of the Nightcloaks and the Shadowlands demons all in one, handsome and powerful. He hadn’t expected the kind smile, or the eyes flickering with warmth. “Of course it is,” he says, when he can’t think of anything else. He bows in return, letting the Nightcloak speak for him. Yes, he’s one of the three most powerful wizards in the past century, after all. Of course Rei wants to meet him. 

Then why is his mouth so dry? And more than anything, why is his underwear plate suddenly so painfully uncomfortable? And what in all the heavens does he usually do with his hands?

“Would you like to have lunch with me? I’ll admit, with your reputation, I expect you to shun me,” Rei says with a laugh, tilting his head. Mika peers around Shu to get a better look, a little bit entranced by the heavy, curling fall of Rei’s hair, tied into a tail that tumbles over his shoulder, looking _so_ soft and shiny that it seems unfair for a man to have. “But it’s worth the risk, I think. I wanted to talk to someone who has been heavily involved in the Academy for the past few years, I feel so behind.”

“Lunch,” Shu says firmly. Then, too late, he realizes that the single word, unaccompanied by a nod or gesture (he’s too afraid of moving his hands all of a sudden), is neither a confirmation nor a denial. “Oh! Ah. My time is--it’s valuable, of course, you see! Ha!”

Then he clears his throat, and grabs Mika’s shoulder for support. “Yes. That is, yes. Lunch.”

Mika leans around Shu, grasping onto the sleeve of his robes to tell Rei, very firmly, but very quietly, “He’s good company. He jus’ thinks you’re handsome.”

“Oh? Ah, lucky me, then,” Rei says, laughing easily as he leans in to pat the top of Shu’s head, gently mussing his hair as he passes. “Then meet me in my chambers in an hour, would you? I wouldn’t want to waste any more of your valuable time than I have to.”

Mika leans around Shu’s other side when Rei leaves, then looks up at Shu to report back. “He does smell good,” he says, batting his eyelashes. “You want a kissin’ lesson?” 

“What do you know about kissing?” Shu asks, sweating to what feels like an absurd extent. “You’re _eleven_. How dare you talk, now I have to go to his chambers!”

“Yeah, eleven’s old,” Mika mildly says, cocking his head. “Which means you’re real old if you don’t know anythin’. Wow, Master, I’ve never seen y’sweat this much.” 

“Don’t--don’t point such things out, how ill-mannered and vulgar of you!” _Is_ eleven old? Shu wonders, panicked. If so, then at nineteen, he’s abysmally advanced, without being... _advanced_ , at all. No, no, Mika had started far too young, of course. He knows that, logically, but his logical brain had all but deserted him when Rei had asked him to _lunch_. “There’s no reason he shouldn’t want to have lunch with me,” he says out of nowhere, gathering his books. “I’m quite interesting. And the youngest Nightcloak of all time.”

“Um…yeah…he thinks you’re reeeal neat,” Mika says. “Neat enough to have lunch with. In his _chambers_. He touched your hair, was his hand nice? They looked nice. Do you want me to come with you to lunch, or just wait outside? I mean, if you two are gonna make kissy faces at one another, I don’t wanna be in the way…” 

“Wizards do not make kissy faces!” Shu hisses the words, then grabs Mika’s hand, pulling him back to their dormitories. “Help me get ready, you know what men like to smell. Not that it matters.”

Mika trots after him obediently, an innocent smile on his lips. “Not that it matters,” he hums. “Master, you’re real pretty. You need to smell like flowers, truuust me.” 

“I do suppose you have some experience and knowledge in that regard. What should I do, tuck flower petals in my robes? Ah, perhaps I should have Wataru summon them all around me, he does love a chance to show off...”

“No, no, that won’t _last_ ,” Mika insists, tugging on Shu’s hand. “I’ll show you.”

Their dormitory is a shared one, strictly at Shu’s insistence. It’s shared even down to the bed, which is two smaller beds pushed together, something that would _not_ be allowed for anyone else. But Shu is a Nightcloak—a very influential Nightcloak, and more than that, a very well-behaved Nightcloak unless he isn’t given what he wants…and he rarely asks for anything. At least, that’s how Mika has come to understand it. 

He drops himself onto the floor next to the bed, reaching underneath it for a small, polished wooden box that he keeps beneath it. “Sit,” he orders Shu, patting on the side of the bed. “I stole this from a noble lady the last time the crown did its little walk-through around here.” 

“What--what are you doing stealing from people?” Shu demands, aghast. “You’ll give it back, of course. What if they’d discovered you? Then you’d be in for re-education, and I’d have to figure out how to get along without you--not that I need you, of course, ha!”

He clears his throat, brushing his hair back again. “Anyway, do you have perfume? I don’t want it to be overwhelming.”

Mika rolls his eyes. “They haven’t caught me yet and it was over a year ago,” he blithely says, unconcerned, and he flips open the box to pull out a tiny little vial. He climbs up to his feet, gesturing for Shu to lean down. “I always thought this one would suit you. Don’t worry, ’s not too much, I swear. Juuust enough that he’s gotta lean in if he wants to smell more of you.” 

Shu blushes furiously, but leans down nevertheless. “This is absolutely wasted on me, of course. Wizards are celibate. I have no reason to attempt to attract anyone. Do you really think he’ll like it?”

“I think that’s dumb, but whatever,” Mika mutters underneath his breath, dabbing a bit of the oil back into Shu’s hairline, then right at the base of his throat. He grabs for Shu’s wrists, dabbing those as well. It’s soft and floral, but definitely quite light, and even being liberal in its application, it still doesn’t float off of Shu in waves. “There. He’ll like it, now you smell like a high class lady.” 

“As if that’s the effect I intend to cultivate?” Shu demands, but he’s heard worse things, and he stands up, tugging his robes into place. “Well. I don’t want to keep him waiting. Oh, what do I usually do with my hands?”

“Um…nothin’ much? I mean, I guess you’re usually pettin’ me.” Mika’s expression shifts wry. “You sure you don’t want me to come?” 

“We are going to speak of very academic and esoteric things,” Shu says dryly. “I don’t relish you tugging at my sleeves and muttering _Masteeeeeer, Masteeeeer_ , every time I try to speak, just because you are bored.”

“Okaaaay, if you say so.” Mika throws himself back down onto the bed, kicking his feet out behind him. “Don’t get mad if you don’t talk ‘bout nothin’ at all, and instead jus’ make kissy faces. I warned youuuu.”

“Yes, obviously, I’m sure a ninety-year-old demon from the Shadowlands with the knowledge of ages and the power of a Nightcloak wants to forsake his entire existence for the charms of one arrogant teenager,” Shu says, adjusting the brooch at his neck. “Right. Well. Don’t...get into trouble. Actually do your homework for once, or I’ll be cross.”

“Uh huh, whatever y’say, Master.” Mika twists onto his side, looking over at Shu over his shoulder. “Y’know you’re handsome, right?” he bluntly says. “And you’re smart and you’re powerful. If he tries to kiss you, you should jus’ do it.”

Shu pokes Mika in the forehead, unable to think of a comeback, and turns, stalking out the door, cloak whipping behind him.

As a visiting professor, Rei’s chambers are far more opulent than any student’s, with an ornate door decorating the front. Shu shifts from foot to foot--how long has it been? An hour? Surely not more--shit, it may have been far, far less--and knocks before he can think of a reason not to.

The door swings open, and answering it is Rei himself, stripped of his robes and in nothing but breeches and thin white linen that leaves—well, not much to the imagination as to what’s underneath (that is, none of the straps and nonsense that other wizards seem privy to, these days). He beams, stepping back to let Shu inside. “Ah, you’re quite early, but that’s good. I’m still struggling to wake up, they keep putting my guest classes far too early,” he says with a yawn, drifting backwards to take a seat at a table already set with tea. “I see you didn’t bring your little bird.” 

“He gets bored with intellectual conversation,” Shu says, then can’t help himself from asking, “Did you want to see him? Rather than me? Which would be fine, of course, but he _is_ a child--a bright child, I’m very proud of him, but...all the same, I wanted to speak to you.”

“Oh, no, you’re the one I’m interested in. I was just informed the two of you were more or less bound at the hip, so…I assumed, my apologies.” 

Rei pulls the door shut behind him. “Please, make yourself comfortable. I’m going to end up talking your ear off, I’m afraid. I’ve been gone for some time, and I have…too many questions about the state of this place.” 

“We do indeed have much to talk about,” Shu agrees. Mika is obviously silly. Rei doesn’t want anything _ridiculous_ from him, even if he is the most gorgeous human Shu has ever seen. He strides into the center of the room, taking note of the resplendent chambers, eyebrows raising. “Well. I think I’ll become a visiting professor when I’m older.”

“Ahhh, all of this…it’s a bit much, I think. The Emperor is trying to convince me that if I’m kept in splendor, I’ll enjoy staying,” Rei dryly says, walking up next to Shu and absently resting a hand against his back. “From what I’ve seen so far…that’s still debatable. How old are you, Shu?” 

“Nineteen, near twenty.” Shu adjusts his lapels, then puts his hands down at his sides. Too much hand, stop it. “I heard you’ve been studying transference up in the Cloudlands, is that true? If such things can be harnessed, the implications are staggering.” Yes, good, that sounds intelligent. Very impressive, Shu is sure.

“It’s not practical for most wizards, though, so there’s little point to it,” Rei dismisses, giving Shu a light shove to one of the chairs. He plops down next to him, rather than across from him, and pours Shu a cup of tea. “For someone so young, you’ve accomplished quite a bit. Do you know what I was doing when I was nineteen?” 

“Entering your third year at Academy, because you bloomed at sixteen--quite late, but not unheard-of,” Shu says, then realizes far too late that most people don’t know the backstories of strangers before meeting them. He flushes pink, then looks down at his cup. “I read your book.”

“Oh. I was going to say ‘sleeping.’ That’s what I remember doing, at any rate.” Rei leans forward, eyebrows raised. “Glad to know this isn’t one-sided research, then. I’ve asked everyone I can get my hands on about you.”

You could get your hands on me.

_No, Shu._

Shu clears his throat, then takes a sip of tea. “There aren’t many of us, are there? I can understand why you might be...curious. There’s little to know, so ultimately your quest must have been entirely fruitless. Apologies. I’ll be far more interesting soon.”

“See, I disagree.” Rei’s eyes lid, and he pours himself a cup of tea as well. “First and foremost, I’ve heard from almost every single source that you and the Emperor butt heads…and I think that’s funny. It must mean you’re smarter than him.”

Shu hides his smile behind his teacup. “To say such a thing would be a form of treason,” he says, keeping a straight face only by the strictest sense of the phrase. “So I’ll just let you say it and nod. Because it’s true.”

“Is it a form of treason?” Rei asks, genuinely surprised. “I thought it was merely something obvious…oh well, I’m a traitor now, I suppose.” He takes a sip of his tea, shrugging. “The Academy is so different than how I remember it. I can’t say I like it.” 

“Tell me how it used to be.” Shu is surprised that his words come out so, for lack of a better word, curious. “What was it like in your day--ah, I don’t mean--I just mean when you first came here. Not that you’re old. You look--you have nice skin.”

Rei’s expression doesn’t change, but he does take another sip of tea before setting his teacup down. “And you,” he mildly says, “smell nice. Anyway, I’m an old man, we can both agree to that. Back in my day, wizards weren’t so…confined. Certainly, we were monitored closely for our first few years of training, but it was nothing like this. For the most part, we were allowed to mingle with society before our training was complete, if we showed the proper control.” 

Shu breathes out through his nose. “That sounds...hmm. Different. I’m not entirely certain if I would prefer that. As a rule, I do not enjoy people.”

“It’s not like it was a requirement. Wizards were still kept here to be trained, of course, but…” Rei flutters a hand. “For example. We could still maintain contact with our families, if we wished it. We could have associates that weren’t wizards. We,” he adds wryly, setting down his teacup, “could have lovers. Can you explain to me, the concept of wizards being _celibate?_ ” 

“I--”

Shu shuts his mouth with an audible snap. “That sounds false,” he says suspiciously, looking at Rei through narrowed eyes. “We can’t have lovers. Emotions go out of control during such things. And--stop looking so smug, I know a bloodbred can smell when someone’s pulse increases and you don’t need to look so _proud_ of it, Sir.”

“I’m thinking perhaps the Emperor had an orgasm that was too much for him once, and that’s why he made that law,” Rei bluntly says. He doesn’t comment on being able to smell Shu’s pulse, but he smiles, nonetheless. “Or, he was jealous over the fact my magic is augmented through sex. You know, let’s go with that one, I feel like he’d die if someone touched him too intimately.” 

Shu snorts now, and doesn’t bother to hide it. “I’m honestly surprised he let you come back, if you’re going to be sprouting all of this sedition. Do you know where he hides his dirty scrolls or something?”

“No, I’m just friends with both his ex-lover _and_ current…hmm, I wonder what he calls him now if not lover? I bet he still touches him, though. The point is,” Rei says, leaning closer. “He’s a hypocrite. He _asked_ me to come back, though.”

It seems entirely unfair, and Shu takes a long swallow from the cup. “Wait. He’d die if anyone touched him but he’s got a lover and an ex-lover? Your famously curving tongue seems to be fact, Demon King.”

“Eh? You’ve heard about my tongue?” 

Shu’s jaw clenches so tightly he hears it pop. “I--I said I’ve read everything, haven’t I? Quintus’s treatise on the Shadowlands, in ’43.”

“Ahhh. I was just afraid Ritsu had been talking about it again.” Rei plops his chin down into one hand, sticking out his tongue the barest amount. “But yes, the Emperor seems to be pulling the wool over your eyes quite spectacularly. I daresay it’s my fault, I really do think he’s just jealous that sex does wonders for me and nothing for him.” 

“You think he rewrote all of Academy policy for the last fifty years because he’s jealous of you, but still invited you to become a guest professor?” Shu smiles, and tries not to look as if he’s eyeing the rare glimpse of that tongue with every bit of his attention. “I can’t decide if you’re self-centered...or if you just _know_ how good you are. Either way, you obviously know how attractive that confidence is.”

“Ahh, so your little bird wasn’t kidding, then, when he said you thought I was handsome.” Rei beams. “I’m self-centered, and so is the Emperor. I like a bit of freedom, and he desires a bit more order. So between the two of us, and what little I’ve told you, then I think you can understand why he wants me back here. Apparently, there are too many powerful wizards floating about for him to handle by himself. Even if I make him angry…I do make his life easier.”

At that, Shu’s smile turns into a smirk. “You mean he’s threatened by me and my little crow, don’t you? Good. People don’t take him seriously enough. And I obviously don’t think anyone takes _me_ seriously enough, I’m far better than all the rest of them.”

“Of course you are. Which is why I’m talking to you now.” Rei’s eyes lid. “And one of many reasons why I find you interesting, but perhaps…that’s the least of them.”

He reaches out, idly unhooking the broach at Shu’s neck and unraveling the ribbon it’s attached to. “You should show more skin. You have a lovely neck.” 

Shu’s breath stutters. A second later, violet fire flares in his lap, and his cup shatters into fine powder. “Sorry--shit, I’m sorry, I--”

“See, this is the problem with restricting _normal_ activity,” Rei sighs, entirely unfazed as he simply dusts the powder away. “Wizards become unable to control any and all emotions. This is all the more difficult with a wizard as powerful as yourself. Don’t worry, you can’t damage anything in here beyond blowing up a bit of furniture. The room is more or less full of magic nullifiers, Eichi doesn’t trust me.”

Shu gulps for air, feeling anxiety rising in his chest, creeping up to his neck. “I’m, I’m not entirely equipped for this sort of thing, honestly, I don’t know who told you I was, but I’ve--I’ve always followed the Academy’s rules, ever since I bloomed, if you want someone to break the rules you’ll want Mika--”

“That child? No, thank you.” Rei simply hooks a finger into the collar of Shu’s robes, pulling him closer. “No one told me much about you, I’ll be honest. But you apparently think I’m handsome and you smell lovely, so…”

“S-so...”

Shu grabs Rei’s hands firmly, and yanks them down from his collar, holding Rei’s eyes with sudden, burning intensity. “If you want me to break every vow I’ve ever taken for you, Demon King,” he says, voice hot and determined suddenly, “then you’ve got to do better at seducing me than simply assuming. Is that all the power the great Demon King has? Ha!”

Rei blinks back at him placidly, then simply plucks up a piece of the cup that hadn’t entirely turned to dust. It turns to dust, then, underneath his touch, only to reform and remerge as a delicate head of white flowers, attached to a heavily leafed stem. “You smell like that,” he simply says, and hands it to Shu before patting his cheek and rising from his seat. “If you’re so concerned about your rules, then you can go.” 

Shu’s hand reaches out, grabbing Rei’s sleeve, though he doesn’t look away from the flowers. “Look here. I don’t mind you thinking I’m beautiful or desirable. But I’m worth far more than to be trifled with, no matter how much I might fancy you.”

“Oh…I’m not trifling with you, did I really give that sort of impression?” 

Rei heaves a sigh and slides back into his chair, shaking his head. “ _Obviously_ you’re worth far more. Ah, I’m moving too fast, aren’t I? I forget, they’ve kept you locked in a box for so many years.” 

He gently catches Shu’s chin all the same, tilting his head up, forcing him to meet his gaze. “It’s unfortunate if this troubles you,” he quietly says, “because you also already smell like you belong to me.” 

Shu doesn’t look away this time--he can’t, not when it feels as though Rei has caught his gaze firm, molten heat dripping into him through those crimson eyes. “Oh,” he manages, finally. “You should...work on your delivery. Because even I, who came to this chamber half-intending to make myself an outcast and throw everything away, expecting to be ensnared by your touch and your voice, would have refused such a crass invitation.”

“Really? Your pulse is thundering.” Rei smiles, leaning in until their foreheads touch. “And you’ve yet to refuse me.” 

“I...do believe I said _would have_ ,” Shu breathes, eyes flickering. He lets his hands drift up, hoping against hope that Rei sees something in his own eyes that’s halfway as entrancing as what Shu sees. “But, ah, you see, you’ve forgotten something.”

“I probably have,” Rei agrees, content with being corrected. Shu smells so good, it’s distracting. Whatever perfume his baby crow decorated with him is nice, but beyond that, it’s the simple scent of _him_ , and of his blood, heady and rich and powerful. _Lunch, indeed._ His fingers absently trail down from Shu’s chin, tracing the line of his neck. “So tell me what that is.” 

“You’ve forgotten...that my participation is not only conditional on your proposal.” Shu swallows hard. Most of himself is appalled at the way he’s acting--but if Rei really does have blockers on his chambers, this is likely his only chance to get a kiss _ever_. Steeling himself, he admits, “The rest of it...is my own desires.”

“Ahh.” A long, sharp nail gently traces the line of Shu’s carotid. “So. I’ll make my proposal a simple one, then.” Rei tilts his head. “Be mine. You can ask ‘why’, if you like, but I’ll always tell you the same thing—because I want you. I came to this place because of you. I smelled you the moment I walked through the door. There’s no real sense to it, but could I steal you from this place right now…ah, I might still.” 

“I’ll bring Mika,” Shu breathes, as if he’s--as if he’s some maiden in a tale, no, this cannot be. He swallows again, mouth dry, and twirls a strand of Rei’s hair around one finger, watching the inky trail flow around his skin. “Maybe we can bring down the Emperor. You and I, we’re better than he is.”

“Of course you’ll bring him. He doesn’t belong here either.” Rei’s lips purse, his fingers stilling against Shu’s throat. “There’s nothing inherently wrong with what Eichi is doing. Some wizards need this sort of structure to grow strong and feel secure, but…that isn’t the same for all of us. If he had tried to put these sorts of restrictions on me, for example…” He trails off, shaking his head. “A conversation for another day.” 

His thumb slides up, brushing over Shu’s lower lip. “A secondary proposal,” he hums. “May I kiss you?” 

“That depends,” Shu says, trying to speak to cover the sound of his rapid heartbeat. His cock swells, pressing against the plate in his underwear, and never has he been more glad that he’s a graduate, and is done with the spikes. It’s still incredibly uncomfortable, but at least it isn’t so painful it makes him afraid he’ll injure himself. “Are you going to fight the emperor for me if your blockers fail? I have too much yet to do in this life to be re-educated.”

“An unnecessary question, that. I’ll kill him.” 

“Delightful. Then you may kiss me.” Shu has never been this stupid, but isn’t that what youth is for? “And know that I passed every temptation test they ever threw at me. You’re special.”

“I know,” Rei says cheerfully, and leans forward, claiming his prize. 

Shu’s mouth is as pliant as it should be—or, more specifically, it isn’t at all, how cute. Rei pulls him close by a finger hooked into his collar once more, and the tongue Shu _apparently_ already knows about flicks out, dragging over his lower lip, gently seeking. 

A lamp shatters into dust in the corner. Shu ignores it except to throw up a careless shield, protecting both of them from any shrapnel. He parts his lips, since that seems to be what Rei requests, and feels himself swooning, leaning into Rei’s chest with eyes lidded, arousal rippling through him.

Rei sputters a soft laugh against Shu’s mouth, and swiftly drags him out of his chair and into his own lap, arms firm about his waist and his mouth hot against him. “There’s a good boy,” he breathes, and his tongue slides hot against Shu’s, dragging against the roof of his mouth teasingly. “Mmm…” He draws back, licking his own lips. “You taste even better than you smell, somehow.” 

“Taste is a more...intensive sense,” Shu breathes, eyelids fluttering as he leans up for more. “According to Brewman’s Bodily Hierarchy, it, ah, has closer ties to our magical selves. Ah, I’m--I’m going to call you by your name, that’s also intensive.”

“Go on, then, see if you can manage when I have my tongue in your mouth,” Rei teases, and snatches him up in another kiss. 

Shu is _much_ more pliant now, which is cuter still, and Rei’s fingers slide back through his hair, mussing it as he pulls him up into kiss after kiss, sucking on Shu’s tongue when he coaxes it into his own mouth. “You really,” he breathes, “already taste like you’re mine. Mmn, and I thought that sort of thing was a myth…” 

Shu’s pulse thuds. His cock aches. He drags his tongue against Rei’s, and is horrified and fascinated to see that he knows exactly what Rei means, _already_. “My lord,” he says softly, and the words feel right. “Ah... _damn_. I had thought to live my life without finding you.”

Shu says that, and Rei shudders, his fingers gripping too tightly at Shu’s back. “Don’t say that again, or I’ll have you right here and now,” he lowly warns, his breath hitching hard in his chest. It’s already difficult enough not to toss Shu back onto his bed, even though Rei knows that’s _stupid_. He’s never claimed to be wholly logical about his decisions. “I mean it, when I said I could smell you when I came here. Gods, but you’re _distracting_.” 

Shu runs his hands down Rei’s chest, and has to bite back tears. Rei feels _right_ , in a way Shu thought was only in maiden’s songs, lovely but delusional stories about meeting one’s True Love. He’d done research, of course. The most accepted theories put forth that there was indeed one fitting mate for everyone, but most people cannot hear or feel the resonating thrums of energy in each other.

Most people, except wizards, who train themselves in such energies.

“What is it like in your head?” Shu whispers, clutching at Rei’s robes. “For me it’s music, your note--it’s a perfect harmony.”

Rei hesitates when he hears that, and his lips curl into a slow smile. “See, that’s how we know we match,” he murmurs, reaching to gently unfurl Shu’s clutching fingers and methodically twine them with his own instead. “You have such a lovely sound, Shu.” 

Tears spring unbidden to Shu’s eyes, and he ignores them, letting them splash down his cheeks, clutching at Rei’s hands. Parting his lips, very softly, he sings a note, the note he’s never sung for anyone else, the note that makes the sound of his own soul. Rei, at last, will understand.

A shiver curls down to Rei’s toes, and he grabs for Shu’s face, kissing him again—not to silence, but to all but taste that sound. A much lower note rumbles from his own throat, a soft, natural harmony to Shu, and he pulls back, thumbs gently brushing over his cheeks to wipe away some of his tears. “Mine,” he murmurs quietly. “You’re mine. Whether I take you now or later, that won’t change. You can’t be free of me, I’m afraid.” 

“I’m not...entirely certain that even you can hold your wards through something like that,” Shu says gently, “so hold me and kiss me for now. And when your wards are better, my lord,” he teases, kissing the tip of Rei’s nose, leaning into his hands, “you can have me.”

“Oh, I can’t,” Rei confirms, laughing as he pulls Shu firmly against him, taking every opportunity to hold him close. “I’m serious about some of these laws being because of me. The Emperor simply can’t have any wild sex magic corrupting his wizards.” 

“Do something about it, then,” Shu says tartly, winding his arms around Rei’s chest, then adjusting himself in Rei’s lap. “O Powerful Demon King, hurry up and make me your Queen already.”

“Don’t say that, or I will. I’m not ready to steal you away yet.” Rei’s fingers slide down Shu’s back, and he makes a face at how he can feel those strange straps even through heavy fabric. “Maybe if I give Eichi a good enough offer, he’ll do away with this mess.” 

“Careful. Touching them too much sets off alarms. Lovely, isn’t it?” Shu rests his head on Rei’s shoulder, then asks softly, “Am I why you came back, do you think? Could you hear me? Or is this just coincidence?”

“What the hell is that nonsense,” Rei mutters, pulling his fingers away with a look of disgust. “Who even thought this _up?_ Ugh.”

His fingers slide to Shu’s hair again, petting through it down the back of his neck. “Eichi truly did invite me back. We’ve…worked together, before, him and Wataru and I. I thought I’d give it a chance. You are just…a very lucky coincidence, I think.” 

“Destiny,” Shu corrects, tangling his fingers in Rei’s hair, then pet-combing through it. “Just because the meaning of the word has been desecrated by fools and mortals who think they can plead with gods to affect their futures isn’t any reason to stop paying heed to the skillfully crafted narrative of time. Don’t steal that quote for your book.”

“Ooh. I might.” Rei grins, flashing sharp teeth, and unravels the tie in his hair, letting Shu have free reign with it. “But with proper credit, of course. Tell me about yourself properly, I’m sick of only hearing rumors.” 

“Hmm. Tell me what you’ve heard, so I know what to correct.”

“You’re a spoiled brat son of a wealthy merchant, with a foul temperament and have a hefty amount of distaste for anyone that would disagree with you, to the point you’ve leveled buildings before when someone had a differing opinion.” Rei smiles placidly. “Also, you pitched such a fit about your cute little bird friend—Mika? Is that his name?—that he’s permitted to be with you at all times, even though he’s been classified as too dangerous even for assignment. That one I’m fuzzy on, you can enlighten me.” 

Shu leans into Rei’s chest, a pleased little smile on his face. “Good, they’re talking about me. Well. About Mika, yes, entirely accurate, though I wouldn’t say I _pitched a fit_.” He had, but he wouldn’t say it. “He’s a sensitive child, and he considers me a protector. They said he could never be allowed to meet people or walk about, that lessons would never permeate his deranged mind. I...objected. Firmly.”

“He didn’t seem deranged,” Rei comments mildly, “just young. I haven’t evaluated him properly, of course, but I’m sure I’ll come to the same conclusion once I do. What about your rumors? Is it true you’re a spoiled brat?” 

“I prefer to think of myself as a luxury that few can afford,” Shu says with a sniff. “I’m not one of those nobles that’s always had life handed to him on a silver platter, my family works for a living. I simply have high standards for anyone who would attempt to engage me in conversation.”

“You’re adorable,” Rei says frankly. “A luxury few can afford…I love that, aren’t you glad I’m wealthy, then?” he teases, leaning in to steal a kiss straight from Shu’s mouth. “If it’s true you blow things up when people don’t agree with you, however, that’s a direct correlation to not being touched and pampered enough, I think. I suppose I’ll just have to touch you all over while I’m here, hmm?” 

“It’s--it’s more that I can’t entirely control it when my emotions are strong,” Shu admits, mouth twisting. “I’m not satisfied with it, so I’ve confined myself to the Academy until I’ve decided the problem is under control. And any time someone’s notes are discordant with my own, it...sets me off.”

“Mm, I see…that’s unfortunate. I can try to help, if you want. I’ve found that having a soothing hobby helps. Gardening,” Rei idly offers up. “That worked for me. But if you’re cooped up in a place like this, that can’t entirely help you.” 

“I like sewing. I’ve sewed that cloak you’re wearing,” Shu says, smiling. “I am young yet, of course. By the time I’m your age, I’ll have control over every part of myself.”

Rei blinks, glancing at his cloak, then back at Shu, and gives him a squeeze. “You could make _all_ of my clothes,” he firmly says. “This is my favorite cloak, I’ve damned near worn it to death. Anyway, of course you’re young, but you’re so _good_ , no need to prove the Emperor right.”

“What do you mean, prove him right?” Shu asks, furrowing his brows. “Obviously strong emotions affect us, we’d be fools to think they wouldn’t. Emotions are often intertwined with magic--I’ll learn to control it or I’ll cut it all off.”

“Right now, the Emperor has you all… _kept_ like this out of a supposed need for your safety, and everyone else’s. Obviously, emotions are often intertwined with magic, but he’s a fool that thinks the lot of us are incapable of ever controlling it.” Rei sighs, fluttering a hand. “ _I_ know you’re still learning. _He_ likes to use it as an example. Wretched, he’s just wretched.” 

“He likes to use me as an example,” Shu says grumpily. “Each time I lose control, it’s another thing he reminds me of, if I ever request extra privileges. I’ll kill him one day.”

“Not if I don’t first,” Rei brightly says. “He was my friend, you know, but the longer I stay here, the more likely I am to lose my sense of humor. He’s ruined Wataru, absolutely ruined him.” 

“Wataru? Ruined?” Shu’s face falls. “I quite like him, I must say. I know he’s the Emperor’s left hand, but we’ve always...understood each other.”

“Ruined,” Rei confirms with a shake of his head. “He was very different before he became Eichi’s favorite. That’s why I’m entirely certain Eichi is a hypocrite, you see. Wataru’s sex appeal is quite high.” 

“Of course,” Shu agrees easily. “Ah, tell me what he was like--tell me what you were like, when you were young. I’ve read the books, but...tell me of the Academy, from your day. You’re a living treasure of history.”

“Oh…no…you don’t really need those stories. I was a terrible child. I fancied myself a street thug, that’s all you need to know.”

Shu clears his throat. “You sound...quite adorable. Like a feisty little...hmm.”

He frowns, and opens one hand, light gathering above it until it coalesces, and a tiny glass figure of a dog drops into his hand. It’s clearly modeled after an incredibly fluffy breed, with just a hint of a tongue hanging out. “Like this.”

Rei exhales a strangled noise, and just barely resists snatching it out of Shu’s hand. “I _love_ dogs,” he insistently says, grabbing up Shu’s hands with the figurine still in it. “Pure little things, they’re so cute, I’d have a herd of them if I could—oh, I recently adopted a wolf puppy, you’d never believe how disobedient he is! But back to the point, I was _not_ cute, I was absolutely horrific, you never would have wanted to know me.” 

Shu sniffs, quite pleased with Rei’s reaction. “If you can show me an image of him, I can make you a proper doll of your puppy. I...I quite like dolls. Animals, not as much, but dolls, certainly.”

“Oh, hmm, let’s see, let’s see.” Rei releases Shu’s hands to flutter one of his own, a wiggle of his fingers resulting in a every single shadow in the room pulling to his fingertips, then flinging themselves against the wall opposite them. They quickly take the form of a scruffy, fat little dog-thing, with paws and tail far too big for its body. “That’s what he looks like when he gets angry,” Rei fondly says. “So charming. Normally, he’s such a yappy teenager. I much prefer the sounds he makes when he’s all…fluffy.”

Shu smiles, and furrows his brow again, until another fat glass figure drops into his palm, far closer to the odd puppy thing that Rei is describing. “Like this? Ah, it’s quite cute, don’t you think? I can only make the female ones make sounds, I don’t know why.”

“Because women are the superior sex, perhaps?” Rei says with a snort, gingerly plucking the scruffy little puppy out of Shu’s hand. “Perfect, absolutely perfect, you’ve captured his essence. I’ll give this to him, if you don’t mind, and he’ll be furious. This is quite a talent you have, do they ever let you do anything with it here?” 

“Of course not, I’m told it’s an entirely useless skill and I should put my talents to work making weapons, or tools to root out sedition.” Shu snorts. “As if making things for beauty’s sake is less worthy than making things for practical use.”

“Oh, to hell with that nonsense,” Rei mutters, leaning forward to gingerly set the figurine down onto the table. “Are you told that often? To make weapons? Whatever _for?_ ” 

“Oh, all the time. And I must each time decide whether to tell them that I’ve failed, and endure ridicule, or that I refuse, and risk being sent for re-education.” The line of Shu’s mouth turns sour, and he leans back into Rei’s chest, eyes closing. “They say if I keep refusing they’ll send me to the Western front, to aid in the war against the Inglings, in the hopes that I’ll discover a secret to desolation in my hour of need.”

Rei’s eyes lid at that, and he slowly rubs a hand down Shu’s back, mindful not to linger on any of those obnoxious straps for too long. “Let them send you there,” he quietly says, “when your education here is complete. It will be much easier for me to find you, and steal you away to my manor, where you can decorate the whole place with your art.” 

“My education was complete two years hence,” Shu says loftily. “I’m simply considered too volatile to be given a peaceful assignment, so theoretically I’m consigned to the Academy as a researcher. Of course, I’ve been given no true purpose to research, so I’m essentially a glorified tutor and babysitter for the young ones, and Mika.”

“…That’s adorable. Of _course_ you have a mother’s temperament.” 

“I didn’t say I was--listen, how dare you?”

“Ah, would you rather be the father-figure? I can understand that. I’ll concede, I’ll just have to be your wife, then.” 

Shu cocks his head. “Am I the father, if you’re the Demon King and I your Queen? How does this work? I’ve never had a lover, much less a spouse, you’ll have to lead the way.”

“With two men, I don’t think it matters much. But you’re _absolutely_ my Demon Queen, and…also, their father, my husband, I think. Yes, that’s how this will work,” Rei hums. “And when the time comes, we’ll have a grand wedding, that much I’ve truly decided.” 

Shu smiles, and leans against Rei’s chest, listening to the oddly human thumping of his heart. “Whatever you say, my lord.”


	23. Chapter 23

High Harbor feels like more of a luxury than the Capital ever has, and that starts with being able to wake up next to Leo. 

Izumi has the mind to stay there. Morning light already pours over them through the window, and simply staying in bed has its own set of charms. But after so long being cooped up indoors, save for the journey here, Izumi is restless, and so he presses a kiss to the top of Leo’s sleeping head before sliding silently out of bed, dressing and taking his sword. 

More at odds with the allure of bed than anything is _Vale_ , scruffy and too-thin (in his eyes) after weeks without him. Izumi arrives at the stables and sets himself to the task of detangling Vale’s horrifically tangled mane, piece by piece. Neigh, in the stall across from Vale, watches, munching slowly on her hay, her gaze judgmental. “Don’t look at your boyfriend so condescendingly,” Izumi scolds, tossing an apple into her feed trough. She goes for it, albeit reluctantly. “Least you could’ve done is do his hair for him.” 

“I tried. Ungrateful wretch almost took my hand off, like it was five slender carrots stuck out of an apple.”

Arashi pokes his head up from Neigh’s stall, hoof pick in hand, hair falling into his eyes. He smiles, seeing Izumi. “You look better. Some food and sleep, eh? Looks like your fine boy here has had some, too.” He points to the overflowing oats spilling out of Vale’s bucket. “That stableboy’s been filling them up every couple of hours, he’s going to eat himself to death.”

“He’s been starving,” Izumi defensively says, though he pops Vale in the nose with the comb when the horse turns his head around to try and lip at Izumi’s too-short hair. It’s a relief to see Arashi, however, and he settles back to his task, methodically picking his way through matted hair. “Sorry about him trying to have a go at you. He’s finicky. You look better, too, now that your face isn’t broken.” 

“Stick your magic hand over here, deal with my knee, would you? I’ve been pretending,” Arashi admits. “Mika still feels like it’s his fault somehow, so I’ve been ignoring it, but ouch.”

Izumi dusts his hands off, setting the comb down on Vale’s stall door before he ducks over into Neigh’s instead. “Sit and I’ll give it a go. Why would he feel like it’s his fault? He didn’t kick the shit out of you.” His expression is wry. “How many men did _that_ take, by the way?” 

“I only counted the dead.” Arashi flops down on a bale of hay, and hisses in relief when he extends his leg, at least as far as it’ll go. “Counted eight of those. Dunno how many ran off to their masters. Then Mika’s little ghosties came through, and...well.”

“First I’ve heard of any of that,” Izumi admits, patting Neigh’s neck when she leans over to investigate, and then kneels down, gingerly running his fingers over Arashi’s knee. “They tried to make it sound like you were dead that whole time. Both Mika and Shu, too. Ah, it’s so _hot_ ,” he mutters, and braces himself for the dizziness to follow when he lets free that energy to carefully mend what’s underneath his fingertips.

Dizziness doesn’t come, but a dull, pounding headache does, much like he remembers from trying to heal th too-old scar on his neck. This, however, seems to do far more. The heat fades from underneath his touch, and Izumi sits back onto the stall floor sigh a sigh. “Any better?” 

Unbidden, tears of relief spring to Arashi’s eyes, and he wipes them on the heel of his hand, looking away. “Ah, thank you, I didn’t realize how much that was hurting. Heh, I bet they lied because we humiliated them so much--we sent them running pretty easily, and we’d have been _fine_ if they didn’t send the Faerie to hunt us. I’d have gotten you out of that stupid place.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Izumi pats Arashi’s leg, waiting for the annoying throb of his head to fade before he slowly hauls himself back to his feet. “I got out eventually, didn’t I? Tell me if that knee bothers you again, I might have to do it a couple of times to make it completely well.” 

“Eh, I can heal from this much without a problem, it can actually extend now. I don’t mind my hurts if they don’t slow me down.” Arashi flashes a grin, and returns to cleaning Neigh’s hooves. “Or if they bother my pretty face. Ooh, you know what we should do after this?”

“Kill every traitorous noble house? Kiss? I don’t know what angle you’re coming from,” Izumi flippantly tosses over his shoulder as he ducks back out to Vale’s stall. “Both sound fine.” 

“True, both are good, but have you considered going down to the courtyard to watch Captain Morisawa and his primary contingent play hickory-stick shirtless?”

“Considering I don’t know who that is other than hearing the name in passing, no, I didn’t consider that.” Izumi keeps picking away at Vale’s mane, much to the horse’s vague irritation. “But he must be handsome, if you’re bringing it up.” 

“Gorgeous. Not to mention, he’s the only human alive that has a tied win/lose ratio with me at sparring.” Arashi sighs dreamily. “Exactly the kind of man I like to fantasize about. Incredible arms. Great ass. Cheerful smile. Nothing like the kind of man I actually like to have as a lover, but _damn_ , you know?”

Izumi levels a stare at him over the stall door. “He has a tied ratio with _you?_ Is he some kind of mixed blood, too?” he teases. “Stop talking so fondly about this guy, I’m gonna get a complex.”

“Why? I’m not your lover,” Arashi points out. “And I’m not mixed blood, asshole, I’m just good at what I do.”

“Whatever. You’re too strong to be human, I swear.” Izumi rolls his eyes. “Am I not allowed to joke around with you now that you’re so firmly, ah, wed? Or whatever he likes to call it? _Honestly…_ ” 

“Taken, I believe,” Arashi says with a hum, tucking the hoof pick in its slot in his leather tool case. “And you are too, aren’t you? After you nearly bit poor Kasa’s hand off, I think you made yourself pretty clear.”

“Yes, about anyone touching _him_ ,” Izumi sniffs, fluttering a hand dismissively. “But it’s fine, I see how it is. You only like boys with pretty little accents and long hair now, guess I’m shit out of luck.” 

Arashi laughs, tossing his hair back from his face, grabbing his bag and looping it over his shoulder, nodding his head towards the beach. “Let me be very honest--it’s more that I really don’t have the energy to keep up with what he wants, now that he’s not bound by their stupid laws. It’s like he’s making up for lost time, honestly.”

“How often does he want to do it?” Izumi asks, amused, and gives Vale a last pat before moving to follow Arashi. “I mean, correct me if I’m wrong…but you’re kind of a once or twice a week at most guy, and there’s nothing wrong with that, but…” 

“I can do once a day, _maximum_ ,” Arashi agrees, leading the way out of the stables. “Twice on special occasions, but yeah, left to my own devices, I don’t have a _need_ for it more than like once a week. Mika...I don’t know. I’ve never found his upper limit. Bottom limit is about three times a day, pretty sure. I’m just kind of praying that he’ll calm down or tire out eventually.”

“Damn,” Izumi mutters, pushing his bangs out of his face after he shakes his head. “He sounds almost as bad as I am. I agree, though, it sounds like he’s trying to make up for lost time. I imagine he’ll probably calm down once everything settles and you actually get back into a real routine. Leo—ah, the prince would try to chop my balls off, if I went at it that much with him.” 

“Obviously, the only solution is for you and Mika to become lovers,” Arashi declares, slinging an arm around Izumi’s neck. “And I’ll be your next Queen, clearly. A good plan, no?”

“Issue with that plan,” Izumi dryly points out, clapping a hand against Arashi’s back. “Your Mika finds me incorrigible. Don’t think I didn’t hear him last night—‘I don’t want to think the snake is _sexy_ ’—honestly, what’d I ever do to him?” 

“Oh, he just hates that I think you’re beautiful. He’s quite a jealous creature, you know. Isn’t it adorable?”

“It would be cuter if I didn’t think he’d try to stab me with those nails of his. Or bring his, ah, ghosties, out to massacre me.” Izumi shakes his head. “I still can’t believe I haven’t heard of that going on. Or maybe I did, who knows. I forgot I got stabbed, do you know how many times I’ve been scolded about that now? Again before bed, even. I’m glad you just got out of that mess with your face and knee a little roughed up. I’d be pissed if I came back and you were ugly.” 

“I know, I would have demanded they just kill me,” Arashi says, not actually sounding like he’s joking at all. “Ugh. We’ll have to take care of those nobles, of course. They can’t be allowed to just strut around, being dangers to the prince.”

“I have a list. We can compare and contrast.” Izumi doesn’t sound like he’s joking, either. “I want them all dead before he takes the throne. Their families, too, if they insist there was no wrongdoing.” 

“Naturally, darling. Ah, does your hair grow faster than normal? Or does it just look longer now that it’s properly clean?”

“Oh, gods, are you just saying that to be nice or does it actually look longer? I’ve been trying to encourage it,” Izumi laments, lifting a hand up to touch the ends of it along the back of his neck. “I feel naked with it short like this, and not in the good way, you know? And L—the prince, sorry, I’m stressed. The prince commented on it and I wanted to die, honestly, I did.” 

“No way, it’s definitely longer. See, here, I remember that it was shorter than one of my fingers, but now it’s just a bit longer, see? And it’s only been a day!”

“You didn’t have time to measure it like that, don’t tease me,” Izumi grumpily says, swatting at Arashi’s hands. “I’m hideous, just tell me already. I wish cut hair was a thing you could heal.” 

“If you hate it that much, I can show you a place in the city. They find a match, then sew attachments into your real hair--honestly, it looks _really_ good,” Arashi assures him. “Totally natural.”

“I’d believe it if there was literally _any_ other person I’ve met with hair my color,” Izumi sniffs. “I’ll get over it, I’m just still sore over it. I was hoping it would grow back even faster, so that when I went back to the capital to try my hand at killing again, it would piss them off.” He shrugs, glancing away. “How vain can I be, right?”

“I can’t really think of anything you could do about this stuff that I wouldn’t think was justified,” Arashi says, steering Izumi down to a huge cleared-out field, with the sand swept away. There are already quite a few men gathered, and Arashi settles onto a nearby bench, waving at a well-built man about a decade his senior, warming up with a few ballistic stretches. “That’s Captain Chiaki. You’d think he’d hate me, since I took his title of youngest regiment captain ever, but he just gave me a big hug and told me to protect the West.”

Izumi starts to say something, then shuts his mouth, dropping right down next to Arashi with large eyes. “Does he…does he always do this? In the chilly weather? With his shirt off?” 

“Oh, yes.” Arashi beams, kicking up his feet. “Isn’t it gorgeous? He says it’s incentive for them to move faster, since they’ll have to in order to warm their blood. I think the gods are just rewarding me for all the bad things that have ever happened in my life.”

“I believe it,” Izumi says, helpless to do anything but stare, leaning back to get the best view possible. “This is my reward for swearing off women for the rest of my life, I think.” 

Arashi reaches into his bag, pulling out a pouch of little candies and passing them over, never breaking eye contact with Captain Morisawa’s excellent nipples. “Ever climbed a mountain so large? I know you like them fey, but...”

“Wrong,” Izumi says, shoving a candy into his mouth. “This is my type.”

“I’m calling fake, your lover is tiny.”

“Let me clarify. Leo is Leo and I think he’s the absolute vision of perfection, period. But that,” Izumi says, nodding to Chiaki, “is the kind of man that I would like to have shoving me into a wall. Regularly.” 

“Ooh, that’s why we’re definitely destined to be,” Arashi says with a sigh. “I’d like to wind him around my finger and teach him brand new hickory-stick rules, you know? Ah, what a shame that it’ll never happen for either of us.”

Izumi blinks at that, glancing away from the sweat that drips so _nicely_ down Chiaki’s spine, even in the cool weather. “What do you mean, it’ll never happen? Look at him, a man like that has got to be hot-blooded.” 

“Oh, he’s definitely hot-blooded, you can see steam rising out of his armpits,” Arashi says dreamily. “But he’s...well. He’s so pure.”

“Doubtful. I bet I could climb him like a tree.” 

Arashi’s eyes glitter with mirth. “Okay. How much?”

“Wait. You seriously think I can’t do it, don’t you!” 

“Ten royals. Wait, no, a week of you rubbing my feet. Wait, no, you have to braid Neigh’s hair for a week.”

“Fine! And if I _can_ bed him—well, nothing about my horse, he’ll kill you and I find you too tolerable for that.” 

“You want money? I can’t help but feel like you still owe me quite a lot because of all the tricks you pulled on me as a recruit. ‘Oh, Captain, yes, I got slashed by the Inglings, but I didn’t scar because of this _amazing_ cream my mother makes, just two nobles a jar!’ ‘Oh, Captain, I recovered from that hit so quickly because of this tonic my mother makes, just five royals for her secret recipe!’ ‘Oh, Captain--”

“You deserve it, hag, for being so damned gullible,” Izumi snorts, shoving Arashi’s shoulder. “It must be rough having to work hard to be beautiful.” 

Arashi pokes Izumi in the side. “I think I deserve to be canonized for not making you return all that crap. Fine, if you can tumble Morisawa, I’ll forgive you for all that shit.”

“Plus a month’s supply of wine. None of the cheap shit from the West, good High Harbor or Capital stuff,” Izumi insists with a wave of his hand. “Because _then_ , we can get drunk together and maybe you’ll finally be sweet enough that Morisawa will have a go with you as well, hmm?” 

Arashi nods, extending his hand. “Deal. Even for a lush like you. Set your own time limit, I’m feeling generous.”

“Oh, I’ll have him by tonight,” Izumi dismissively says, shaking Arashi’s hand. “It’s not like it’s hard.” 

“Oh, this is going to be so much fun, I want to hear all about it, promise me you’ll tell me everything,” Arashi says, delighted.

“I can tell you still don’t believe me by the tone of your voice. That’s very rude. I was tumbling girls when I was eleven, you know.” 

“Morisawa isn’t a _girl_. And he likes women, too.” Arashi beams, then winks. “Good lu~uck!”

“That makes it easier. Even the best men,” Izumi says with a pat to Arashi’s knee before he rises to his feet, “usually think with their pricks.”

His usual sour expression is replaced with an at-least moderately cheerful one. “Captain Morisawa!” Izumi calls, striding over. “When you’re done, do you have a moment? I’ve been dying to have a word with you.”

Chiaki hands off his hickory stick to a lieutenant, turning to give Izumi a cheerful smile. “Hello!” His voice is boomingly loud, and he laughs, eyes sparkling. “Want to play a pick-up round? You look like you’d be great at it! I’ll find you a uniform--just kidding, we take off our shirts here!”

“So I’ve noticed, Captain,” Izumi says without batting an eye. Dear gods, but Chiaki is…hmm. Large. In every sense of the word—tall, broad, voice, all of the above. “But I’m afraid I’ll pass. I’d rather monopolize your time while I can. Lord Izumi of the North, the heir to the Sena house. If you’ve the time, I’d like to see the skills that can, apparently, toss Captain Arashi onto his ass.” 

Chiaki looks up to see Arashi on the stands, and waves brightly back. “You want to spar? Excellent! Here, where are you staying, we can go there, so we don’t startle the children. Oh, and I only spar bare-handed, wouldn’t want any accidents.”

“Fair enough,” Izumi airily says, taking a step back. “I’m staying at Lord Tsumugi’s manor. It would be an honor for you to join me.” 

“Great! Ah, Tetora, take over in my place, will you?” Chiaki grabs his shirt, thoughtlessly wadded up on a bench, and tosses it over his shoulder. “Izumi, of the North...what are you doing down here? This isn’t the North!”

“A shame, that—but High Harbor has been decisively more hospitable than I imagined it to be,” Izumi says, sending a smirk over in Arashi’s direction as he trots after Chiaki. “This is your city, isn’t it? I only just arrived last night.” 

“Yes, I live here! Just over there--” Chiaki points down a winding road, to where a few children play ball in the streets, washerwomen just on their way back from the laundry with baskets tied to their backs. “See the green door? I grew up there. My mother and father still live there. I’m very grateful to have a posting where I get to see them often. Is it hard to be so far from your home and family?”

“My mother’s my only family, I’m afraid, but yes, it’s hard to be away from her.” Pure, yes, but Izumi is wholly unfazed. He’d rather try chasing after this kind of man than those of far more heinous personalities. “I’ve studied in the capital since I was a boy, so I suppose I’m used to it by now.” Izumi steps closer, and blinks, stepping back again. “Has anyone told you that you’re..ah… _very_ warm, Captain? You sort of radiate.” 

“Of course! Oh, no, are you cold? A perfect excuse for a hug!” Chiaki stops on the street to give Izumi a hug, as promised, pounding his back to get him warm.

“That…certainly is a way to get someone warm,” Izumi wheezes, feeling his feet leave the ground. Chiaki’s chest is _very_ warm and solid, and that’s nice. “You can put me down at any point, I rather prefer being chilly. Northern blood.” 

“A nice contrast, excellent!”

Chiaki sets him down, then walks up to the manor, waiting respectfully at the gates. “I’m glad my lord and lady have someone so talented protecting them. Just like Mighty Ham and the Seven Trolls!”

“…Come again?” Izumi waves to the guards, and the gates slowly swing open, recognizing him even though he’s only been here for a day. The hair helps. “So you’ve heard of me, then,” he presses. “Hopefully only good things.” 

“Oh, everyone’s heard about the Valiant March to the North!” Chiaki says, face lighting up enthusiastically. “How you and Captain Arashi took your most mobile knights and dashed up to the northern estates to save the people, defeating a thousand Inglings with only three hundred men--I could name the entire contingent from how many times I’ve heard and told the story! There’s Captain Arashi, and Izumi of the Sena house, and Mitsuru of--”

“That’s not necessary,” Izumi hastily cuts him off. “I’m, ah, flattered you know the story so well. Heh, what you’re probably missing is how often Captain Arashi stole kills from me. He’s so competitive, it’s so annoying at times.” 

Chiaki’s face falls. “I wish it weren’t necessary to kill them. I’m very hopeful that someday, our linguists will find a way to talk to the Inglings and properly negotiate with them.”

“When they’re trying to rush at you and kill you, that’s honestly the last thing on your mind,” Izumi wearily points out. “That’d be nice, of course, and it certainly would cut our time on the field in half, but…” He trails off with a shrug. “I wish that more for the wizards we drag around than the soldiers. They’ve got no interest in this nonsense.” 

“You have wizards?” Chiaki’s face is bright, and he grabs at Izumi’s hand. “That’s excellent! I hear they’re both powerful and wise!”

“They’re powerful and kind of silly,” Izumi says, distracted by how warm Chiaki’s hand _still_ is. “Mm, forgive me, Captain, but they’ve run their mouths about you a bit. I think one of their friends is in your care.” 

“Ah, Kanata, yes!” Chiaki’s smile grows fond, wistful as he looks out towards the ocean. “He doesn’t come to shore too much anymore, but...mm, if they’re friends with him, they must be good people.”

“They are. One of them—Shu, is his name—said he was a fellow Nightcloak? I’ll admit, I don’t know much about wizards…but I know that’s rare. For him to be in your care, he must trust you very much.” Izumi tilts his head to get a better look up at Chiaki, and Izumi’s fingers slowly, carefully squeeze around his. “If you don’t mind, rather than spar, I’d prefer to hear a thing or two about being an officer in a city like this—“

A cold, bloody hand swings out from a ditch just shy of the gates and grabs Izumi by the ankle, and he’s never abandoned a man’s hand in favor of drawing his sword _so_ quickly. 

The face that stares up at him is pale, with blood streaking down his face as if its his matted red hair leaking its color. Izumi recognizes him in an instant— _Mao?_ —and at his side, clutched tightly to himself, is Ritsu, unconscious, though not as bloody. “Mao?” Izumi manages, lowering his sword. He steps back, on edge now, expecting those dreaded bells to start ringing. “Is there anyone else? How—“

“Later,” Mao rasps, his voice barely audible. “Take care of Ritsu. Now.”

Izumi sheaths his sword. “Help me pull him up,” he orders Chiaki, dropping to his knees to grab for Mao’s hand. 

Mao’s face twists. “Morisawa,” he mutters. “Long time no see.” 

Gently, Chiaki kneels, lifting Mao and Ritsu both in his arms as easily as he might carry a child. His face is set in a stony expression, and he asks quietly, “Do we prepare for an attack, seekers, wizards, or armies, Isara? Are there any immediate mortal wounds?”

Mao’s head lolls in an instant, consciousness leaving him.

“Down, put him down,” Izumi quickly insists. That’s new and _strange_ to be able to feel the way Mao’s temperature suddenly plummets, and his hands are on him before Chiaki even does as he’s told. Having someone’s life _literally_ in his hands is fucking terrifying, but—

Ritsu basically saved mine, time to return the favor for what’s his.

_Blood drips steadily over his hands—but from where? Pinpointing is impossible, and for good reason, when it just seems to keep coming, dripping from Mao’s nose and ears and out of the corner of his mouth. Poison of some kind, Izumi can all but taste it in his own mouth when he touches Mao, but nothing like he’s ever seen or heard of. “Last I heard, the Academy had him,” he mutters distractedly, wavering for a second, unsure of where to even start, and his fingers tremble as he finally rests them over Mao’s throat, firmly pressed against his carotid artery, hoping that will pump whatever his magic can do to fix this faster through Mao’s body. “I don’t know what they did to him. Ritsu went to retrieve him, but…”_

“Magical poison. I’ve seen it before.” Chiaki’s face tightens in pain, and he looks down at Mao, memories assaulting him. “Where do I find your wizards? If you didn’t have a Nightcloak I’d call Kanata, but if there’s one closer, that’ll be--”

“I felt it.”

Shu’s voice is tight as he runs down the stairs to the courtyard, moving in the blink of an eye to kneel next to Mao. His eyes unfocus as he reaches out, laying a hand on Mao’s forehead. His lips move, and he starts mouthing the words to esoteric spells, drawing on all the useless knowledge he’d acquired over years, knowing he’s right, knowing that it’s exactly the sort of torture that the Academy’s employees are partial to doling out. The poison is a slippery thing, trying to shut down all of Mao’s mental processes, and only the unexpected strength of the man--why? what’s giving him such strength?--keeps him from dying before Shu can burn out the poison. Mao hovers on the urge of braindeath, with Shu working so quickly that violet fire rises around him, bleeding out his nose and eyes, little puffs cut off by every mumbled word from his lips. “Whoever you are, whatever you’re doing, if you stop, he’ll be dead in seconds,” he mutters, getting his magic into a particularly vicious tendril of power that had burrowed in for hours, likely, and is now wrapped around the young man’s heart. He burns it--he’s good at burning things, though he doesn’t relish the activity--and moves on to the next.

That doesn’t exactly instill confidence within Izumi, but it does force him to focus himself tenfold on his task. “Understood,” he murmurs, eyes lidded and his nails all but digging into Mao’s skin to make sure his touch isn’t dislodged. His head pounds—there it is, _that’s_ the dizziness he’s accustomed to, the shit that used to plague him even if he was wiping a hickey from Leo’s neck—and Izumi swallows hard, briefly shutting his eyes. “If you can, work fast.” 

Mika’s head warily pokes out into the courtyard, then the rest of him follows, a wary glance spared towards Chiaki before he silently picks his way over to Ritsu’s unconscious form. “Unaffected,” he quietly notes, glancing up skyward. “No one else’s comin’, Master.” 

“Keep watch. I-- _got it,_ bastard,” Shu hisses, chasing down a particularly stubborn tendril and not just burning it, but following it to its source, a writhing mass lodged in the man’s heart. It’s a disgusting, spawning mass, but it contains the nucleus of the sickly-pulsing power, and with a burst of cool flame, Shu blasts it out of existence.

The rest of the tendrils fade away, and Shu gasps, falling back in a dizzy tangle, pulling up Mao’s shirt with a grimace. There’s a black mark over his heart, like soot, soaked into the skin. “You can stop,” he says, voice sounding hollow and tinny to his own ears, as if he’d blown out his own eardrums. “If he survived that, he’ll live. Water.”

Mika quickly kneels, water skin already in hand. “Here, Master, drink,” he urges, his gaze still skyward. “The bells aren’t even ringin’…”

Izumi sways dangerously, sitting back with a long, shuddering breath. His vision swims, and the sweat that drips down the back of his neck is at odds with the cool air around them. “I don’t,” he whispers, “want to ever do that again.” 

But Mao is breathing far easier, at least, and a quick, dizzyingly nervous glance at Ritsu reveals that he seems…more or less fine, no matter Mao’s urgings to help him. “I’ve never seen anyone’s sand shift so fast,” Mika says, voice awed. “I didn’t know it _could._ ” 

Shu waves a shaking, pale hand, drinking down the water in a few heady gulps. “I know. I’m very talented and powerful, keep telling me.”

Chiaki kneels next to Ritsu, reaching down to touch his face. “Someone else touch him, everyone feels cold to me. His pulse is--strange, is that...”

“It’s a thing.”

Ritsu’s voice comes out cracked and aged, like something that has risen from a grave after decades of decomposition. His eyes don’t open. “Don’t touch me. Or I’ll bleed you dry.”

“He’s just like that,” Izumi quickly says, lurching over and quickly pressing his wrist to Ritsu’s mouth. That’s a task he doesn’t mind—it’s far easier than actually having to _heal_ something, which just makes him feel like he’s been run over by a stampede of horses. “Ritsu, it’s Izumi. Drink, it’s fine, it’s fine.” 

Fangs dart out, and Ritsu finds a vein unerringly, sucking blood down his throat until the color returns to his cheeks. Then his eyes open, flaring scarlet, then settling into something approaching normal, and he slowly retracts his fangs again. When he speaks, his voice is far more normal. “Where?”

“High Harbor,” Chiaki answers immediately. 

Ritsu’s face flickers, and he moves, crawling to Mao’s side, pulling his head into his lap. “Shu...you’re good. Thank you.”

“Praise, good, thank you,” Shu says wearily, without much force behind it. “My lord?”

Ritsu hesitates, then shakes his head, not meeting Shu’s eyes. “Traded himself for us. I tried to stop him.”

Izumi sways once, then collapses in a dead faint.

“There he goes,” Mika says, rubbing Shu’s back slowly. “Master, you should go lie down, you worked too hard.” Then, more quietly he adds, “If Rei’s doin’ somethin’ like that, we gotta think of what to do.” 

Shu leans back into Mika’s hands, letting his eyes slide closed. “My lord can take care of himself. He made me promise long ago never to sacrifice myself to rescue him--like as not he has some plan, a reason for being inside the Academy to which I am not privy.”

“This is a lot of people unconscious,” Chiaki says frankly. “Should I get pillows? I’m going to get pillows.”

Mika opens his mouth to tell Chiaki to do something more useful, but words fail him—as they typically do, around large men that are obviously soldiers—and he huffs instead, face buried into Shu’s shoulder. 

Fortunately, Izumi stirs almost as quickly as he fainted, wincing as he rolls over, white as a sheet and with a headache that nearly makes him rip his own head from his neck. “I’m fine,” he says, even though no one has decided to ask. “Gods, I hate that. Ritsu—“ Scratch that, actually. There’s a look in Ritsu’s eyes that unsettles him, and he decides not to reach out his hand, for fear it’ll be bitten off. “If you want help getting him to a room, I’m here,” he says instead of moving towards him again.

“I have no idea what you did back there,” Chiaki says frankly, “but you look very pale yourself. You should definitely rest, too. I can take you all to a nice soft room, but I’d like someone to give me directions, please!”

“I’m good, I can give directions,” Izumi dazedly says, forcing himself up to his feet. He’s wobbly, but at least still conscious, and he grabs onto Chiaki when he does sway and threaten to fall over again. Chiaki is _so_ blazingly warm that his body gives up almost immediately, collapsing against him the rest of the way. “S-sorry,” he manages, feeling himself tremble, his teeth almost chattering before he grits them together. “I—gods, I’m so cold.” 

“No, come here, it’s fine!” Chiaki scoops Izumi into his arms, holding him close. “Just point the way, I’m good at carrying. It’s good practice for my future wife, haha!”

Izumi just groans at that, and slings his arms around Chiaki’s shoulders. “Yeah, you look like the kind of guy that needs a gorgeous wife,” he grumpily mutters, and points weakly towards the entryway. “Go in there and…I’ll figure it out, fuck, you’re _warm._ ” 

“It’s clean living and a burning heart full of passion,” Chiaki declares without a hint of irony or embarrassment, heading for the entryway. “Have you tried eating raw eggs?”

“No, that’s disgusting,” Izumi says firmly. “I think it’s beyond raw eggs and passion, I really do. Are you sure you’re human? Ugh, I think it’s down the hall to those stairs, and up to the right? If I pass out again,” he adds, “please just leave me to die.”

“Nonsense, I’ll just have to find your true love to kiss you back to life,” Chiaki says cheerfully, setting off down the stairs and to the left. “You’re a very resilient person. I like that about you.”

“I’m _so_ much fun when I don’t have to be demon food and life support,” Izumi bemoans. “I swear. You’re so handsome it’s pissing me off, you know?” Now he’s sulking _and_ lightheaded—leave it to the world to try and explode again, just when he thought he’d escape it for a _moment_ —and he huffs into Chiaki’s shoulder. “Everyone I’ve met in High Harbor is _beautiful_ , that seems so unlikely and unfair.” 

“Maybe you’re just becoming more mature,” Chiaki suggests. “And you’re learning to see the beauty in everyone. Wait, are you sure this is your chambers? I think we’re in the food cellars...”

“It’s because you went left instead of—you know what, this is fine. It’s cold here. You’re warm.” Izumi turns his head, burying his face into Chiaki’s neck. “Five minutes away from this mess of a war sounds nice.” 

“It does, doesn’t it?” Chiaki’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet, and he finds a crate of potatoes, sitting with Izumi on his lap. “We’ll hear the horns from down here, if they need me. Ah, I suppose real heroes wouldn’t need a break every now and then, would they? I still have work to do.”

“High Harbor seems so quiet, compared to how the Sandlands and Capital were…but I guess you’d know better than anyone that isn’t the case, huh?” Izumi settles, feeling his body temperature _slowly_ come back to normal—which is to say, slightly cool, but nowhere near the temperature that made him feel like he was turning to actual ice. “I don’t think there’s any shame in pulling back for a moment. A second to energize yourself can only help.” 

“Usually I get stronger when I’m in a pinch, you know? The harder I try, the better my body and heart respond. Just...” Chiaki stares at the wall, hands clenching impotently. “I’ve seen some things lately that made me...start to question which side a real hero would be on. It’s easier when someone attacks first, you know? So you know--whichever side has the innocent people screaming, that’s where you protect.”

“It’s much easier when you decide to just follow one man,” Izumi quietly agrees, his fingers distractedly curling against the back of Chiaki’s neck, combing through the ends of his hair. “Luckily, the man I follow is a very good one. There’s never a question of who’s a hero, if that’s your concern.” 

Chiaki gives him a smile, but it doesn’t have the usual brilliance of his grins. “You know much about the family that used to live here? In this manor?”

“Nothing at all, sorry.” 

“They were good people. They ruled here, when I was a boy. The father--he had a lot of debts, I think? Something like that, they don’t really explain things like that to minor nobles. My father’s a General in the King’s Army, so we’d come to dinner here sometimes.” 

Chiaki runs his hands back through his hair, making it stand on end. “He had debts, and he didn’t pay. I think that must have been a hard decision for him, but...he had a lot of debtors in the Sandlands. They brought their private forces here. That’s the closest I’ve ever seen to a civil war. What I remember way more than the war itself was the tension before that. The way everyone held their kids extra tight, or wouldn’t talk aloud about important stuff.” He looks over at Izumi, and his smile fades. “It feels like that now.”

_This is so much worse_ , Izumi wants to say, but doesn’t. “I think,” he says, “it’s been like that for awhile. Even within the Capital. No one wants to talk about it, but looking back…”

He shrugs, leaning his cheek against Chiaki’s shoulder. “I know, very well, which men are so far from the side of heroes that it’s laughable. It’s unfortunate, that even the crown is affected, but…at least now, I think something can be done about it. I won’t serve a king that has no real good will in mind for his people.” 

“I’ve always been very straightforward with the King,” Chiaki says, wrapping an arm around Izumi’s shoulders to keep him close and warm. “We’re supposed to take an oath to serve him above all others. I told him I’ll always serve the people under my care first. Ha, he didn’t like that at all. If my father hadn’t been one of his most trusted advisors, he’d probably have killed me. But...”

He shrugs the shoulder not currently acting as a pillow. “I think he must have a lot of goodness in him, because he agreed.”

“Or your father was too important to piss off, so he kept his mouth shut and thought you’d do what he said, anyway,” Izumi mutters, nestling more firmly into Chiaki’s chest. “If he had goodness in him, it’s gone now, or it’s so crushed beneath the weight of his own stupidity and greed that it’s impossible to find. He claimed me dead, you know—all to avoid my mother marching in on him. He’s callous enough to do the same about his own son, and talk about wedding plans for his next heir instead.” 

“I’m sure he’s doing what he thinks is best,” Chiaki says, and in his mouth, it sounds like the truth. “And I’ll do what I think is best for the people under my protection. Don’t worry. As long as you’re in High Harbor, I’ll keep you safe for sure, and all your loved ones.”

“Don’t be an apologist for him,” Izumi complains, slapping a hand against Chiaki’s chest, pushing away. “I don’t want to hear it. I’ve no more patience for our corrupt king—in fact, it makes me ill to keep calling him that. He’s not my king, never has been. Ahh, Captain Arashi’s right, you’re too pure.” 

“But isn’t everyone doing what they think is right?” Chiaki asks, unfazed. “Even the ones we think are evil--the most evil men I’ve ever fought thought they were doing what they thought was best. That’s the danger of them.”

“If he condones evil, and allows it to propagate, then as far as I’m concerned, he’s no better than the shit and corruption that he’s allowing to brew up within his ranks. I don’t care if he thinks what he’s doing is right. I’ve got two eyes, I can see that it isn’t.” 

“But you can only see from where you’re standing,” Chiaki counters. “If I sent my fist flying at your face, you’d think I was trying to kill you, but what if there was something sneaking up behind you that you couldn’t see? Just two eyes can’t see everything. All I ask is that the men I respect think about every decision carefully--but if it’s obvious, like protecting someone in danger, there’s no need to fear or hesitate! Charge right in, and prove your burning heart!”

“If you’ve got two eyes that have seen a lot of _obvious_ evidence about what the king has been tolerating and cultivating, then I don’t think there’s any reason to hesitate about that, either. Believe me, I’ve thought about my decision _carefully._ ” 

Izumi shifts, deciding he’s had enough, and tries to squirm his way out of Chiaki’s arms. “You’re a little too hellbent on seeing the good in the worst people for me,” he says. “Healthy cynicism, please look into it.” 

“Not for me, but I hope it brings you joy,” Chiaki says sincerely, letting Izumi go. “For my people, as usual, I’ll keep them safe however I can. Or anyone that needs my help. Anyway, sorry that I didn’t manage to take you to your room. Let’s try again some other time!”

Izumi hesitates after climbing to his feet, then sighs, and leans down, tapping Chiaki’s chin up with one finger and kissing him before he has a chance to say another word. “Catch me when I’m drinking sometime, then you can go on about justice and I won’t be so stressed by it,” he wryly says, patting Chiaki’s cheek before he turns away. 

“Thank you, I will!” Chiaki says happily, and heads for the exit himself, fumbling his way towards a correct passageway. “Good luck, Sir Izumi. May we always find ourselves on the same side!”

Does that offer count as _not_ failing at a bet? Doubtful, but it’ll still make for a good story when he’s rubbing Arashi’s feet later. Izumi sighs. “For everyone’s sake, I hope that’s true,” he offers, turning the opposite way to escape Chiaki and his veritable furnace of existence. 


	24. Chapter 24

Still firmly within the North, Izumi’s mother threatens to come and visit him weekly, if he doesn’t write.

There are a few issues with this, namely—there are some things that Izumi prefers for his mother to not know about. Editing his time in the capital for content becomes trickier and trickier as time goes by, and after being so forwardly invited to a proper noble party, it’s rather hard to write a letter that’s entirely…truthful. 

Lord Karn’s wife is beautiful, and pays him far too much attention all night, while her husband is away. Izumi doesn’t particularly care _where_ her husband is, because he’s fourteen, and this is a woman prettier than he’s _ever_ seen. Capital stock, born and bred, she proudly claims, touching his hair and shoulders, batting her painted eyes, and fixating on her becomes an easy task for the evening, whereas before, he was a bit on edge and put out at the idea of a party in the first place. He could have been riding his horse or practicing, after all. 

It isn’t the first time a woman in the capital has taken interest in him, but it _is_ the first time it’s a proper lady. Maids and servants, those are one thing, and he has no issue tumbling them when they like the way he teases them and flips their skirts in passing. He also doesn’t remember their names—but Lady Karn, he remembers her, and how distractingly soft her hands are when she keeps petting him all night. 

Lord Karn is stationed somewhere far away for the next month, she says, and the invitation is clear…but how to explain this sort of thing in a letter is not. Another thing to skip, definitely.

Izumi stumbles out of her bedroom in the wee hours of the morning to trek his way back across the city and take care of his horse before anyone notices his absence. He stifles a yawn when he finally arrives, and Vale tosses his head over the stall door, kicking it angrily because his breakfast is fifteen minutes late. “Shh, shhh, honestly,” he hisses, hauling over the pail of oats. “If you weren’t so rude to the stable boys, you could eat on a normal schedule, but noooo…” 

“He’s playing you false,” a merry voice says from the stable loft. A moment later, the head of the prince, orange and tousled above a huge grin, sticks out over the side of the loft. “Coran fed him an hour ago, he licked up every stray oat to make sure the crime was clean.”

“You cheat,” Izumi growls, fixing his horse with an accusatory stare. Vale doesn’t even look up from where his face is stuffed into his feed trough. “Wretched beast, you’re going to get too fat. Good morning, Milord,” he wearily adds, waving a hand up to Leo. 

“You look _very_ worn out.”

Leo drops down from the loft without bothering with the ladder, landing lightly on his feet after a twelve-foot drop. He leans over, poking at Izumi’s chest. “Too much fun with Lady Karn?”

Izumi’s mouth opens, then shuts, and he huffily bats Leo’s hand away. “I could use a bit more sleep,” he carefully says. “You’re speaking very loudly, Milord.” 

“Are you drunk? It isn’t even noon yet.” Leo folds his arms. “I don’t know how they do things in the North, but here people show a lot more respect, or they get dunked in the horse trough.”

“I can assure you I was respectful to her all night, Milord,” Izumi dryly says, rolling his eyes as he takes a step back, turning himself to the task of brushing out his stupid fat horse’s mane. “ _Very_ respectful.”

“You’re--you’re going to get in trouble.” Leo moves around to face Izumi, glaring as self-righteously as only a fourteen-year-old prince can manage. “You can’t just sleep with a noble lady! It’s wrong, she’s _married_ \--and honestly, she’s old!”

“Now who’s the disrespectful one, Milord?” Izumi mildly shoots back, picking his way through Vale’s already almost-pristine mane with a comb. “She’s very beautiful.” 

“She’s over thirty, and you’re not even half that!”

“So? She’s very beautiful. She invited me to her bed, it’s not as if I forced myself upon her.” 

“Izumi...” Leo stares at him, head cocked, as if Izumi is something he’s never seen before. “It’s _wrong_ , to sleep with a married woman. Her husband’ll come after you--and he’s an adult, he’s an _officer_ , and Father will have to let him.”

“Then let him,” Izumi scoffs, unconcerned. “He can challenge me and I’ll win. Maybe he shouldn’t leave his wife so unsatisfied, then, he’s brought it on himself.” 

“You’re--you can’t be that callous. This could destroy their marriage, are you that in love with her?”

“In love with her? Gods, no,” Izumi laughs, leaning against Vale’s shoulder as he looks back at Leo. “She’s a lovely woman, but I don’t particularly care. She’s…we’re having _fun_ , Milord. You know, like you aren’t allowed to?” he teases, leaning over to pull on the tail of Leo’s hair. “So I’m doing it for the both of us.” 

Leo’s face tightens unhappily, and he reaches over for Vale’s tail, starting to braid it, somehow without being kicked to pieces. “There’s fun that wouldn’t mean you’re going to get challenged to duels. Or that you’re hurting people’s feelings, or breaking up marriages. Just...Lord Karn isn’t a reasonable man. What if he tries to stab you or something? I’m your _friend_ , I’m concerned, you should care!”

“I care that you’re concerned, and I _appreciate_ the concern,” Izumi says earnestly, giving Vale’s shoulder a rub to reward his good behavior. Not kicking the prince is a _good_ thing. “I have plenty of fun that’s _also_ like that. I haven’t broken up anyone’s marriage, _honestly_ , and Lord Karn can come at me all he wants. I’ve seen him duel before, he’s nothing impressive.” 

“You talk like you’re the best in the realm. You’re not. I beat you all the time.”

“You _used_ to beat me all the time, Milord, now it’s a split fifty-fifty. And that’s only because you’ve had fancy tutors since you were four.” 

“Just because our last duel was a draw does not make it fifty-fifty,” Leo protests. “I beat you the three times before, you’re just making things up!”

“Sorry, are you forgetting our mounted duels as well? Just because your horse is afraid of Vale doesn’t mean they don’t count,” Izumi hums. “Milord, I _swear_ I’ll be fine. It’s going to be all called off before he returns home, anyway. I’m not interested in wedding her. I thought the capital was the place to have this sort of fun, and now I’m being scolded…” 

“You’re being scolded because you’re not listening to your prince,” Leo says, sticking his tongue out and trying to fetch Izumi a kick, even as he tries not to smile. “I don’t think anywhere is the place to have that sort of fun, anyway. I hate hearing rumors about you.”

“Rumors? About me? Like what?” Izumi teases, grabbing Leo by the arm to haul him closer. “My apologies, Your Highness, for not obeying your every word. Shall I kneeland have you berate me properly?” 

“It’d serve you right if I said yes,” Leo mutters darkly, poking Izumi in the forehead, standing his ground even if he has to tilt his head up to do it. “I’ve heard all sorts--that you’re trying to repopulate the Capital with Northern bastards, that you’ll tumble girls as old as grannies, that you’ll even lie with the beasts in the stables if there’s no women around!”

“Oh, but all of those rumors are ridiculous, so they’re obviously untrue,” Izumi says dismissively. “And undoubtedly spread by insecure men. Talk to women, and the rumors are much nicer and more accurate.” 

“I’m not really allowed to talk to women much,” Leo grouses. “See, if I tumbled a girl, it could start a war, as my tutors are so fond of reminding me.”

“Your tutors make me tired,” Izumi bluntly says, mussing Leo’s hair. “Didn’t they yell at you the other day because they thought I was a woman from behind?”

“That wasn’t even the first time. Oh, and remember last week’s Midsummer Ball, when I was supposed to ask Lady Ortella to dance? They said I looked at Lady Arla before I offered Lady Ortella my hand, so I had to make _three_ formal apologies in writing--to both ladies, and to Lady Ernossa for _not_ glancing at her, because she’s higher in rank than Lady Arla, and if I were going to snub anyone for someone, it should have been for her.” Leo scowls, and braids more of Vale’s tail. “Don’t ever become a prince. It’s balls.”

“And this is why I’m having fun for both of us. That sounds ridiculous.” Izumi shakes his head, and turns back of the task of combing out his horse’s mane. “You know, in the North, all you have to worry about is if they’re common or noble.” 

Leo sighs. “I can’t wait until I go up there for a year. You’ll have to be my guide, of course. Tell me who not to look at.”

“I mean, it’s pretty simple up there,” Izumi wryly says. “You’ve got one noble house. You can chase any of us that you like—well, there’s three people left in it, so it’s myself, my mother, and my aunt, and my mother’s off-limits for any men as far as I’m concerned, so you’ve got two choices. Don’t look at my aunt, she’s a bitch. Makes it easy, huh?” 

Leo’s chest flutters. _Don’t be an idiot, he means it makes it easy to choose no one at all, you horny fool._ “Yeah, I understand,” he manages, fingers flying through the braid. “Heh, I’ll get about as much action up there as down here. Maybe my chances are better in the Sandlands after all, eh?”

_Nothing, huh?_ Izumi rolls his eyes to himself, repressing his irritation. Sheltered capital nobles are stressful. “I don’t know anything about the Sandlands other than whores exist. Personally, prostitutes don’t do it for me, but maybe you can find yourself someone pretty, Milord.” 

“It’d probably be my only chance to bed a woman before I’m married,” Leo says glumly. “Oi, tell me what it feels like. In great detail. Like, an embarrassing amount of detail that makes even your cold cheeks blush.”

“I don’t blush,” Izumi snorts, finishing off his combing and stepping back to examine his work. “Especially not about that. What do you want to know first? Tits are all right, but thighs are what’s really nice, especially when they wrap around you all soft and creamy when you’re putting it in…” 

Despite his bold words, it’s Leo who feels his cheeks flush--though it’s less due to the words, and more to the stray thought that _I have thighs, too_. “What’s it like...you know. Inside? No one will tell me properly, just that it’s nice.”

“That’s because you’re a prince, and no one wants to dirty your cute, innocent ears,” Izumi says with a laugh, turning around to lean against Vale’s enormous side. “It’s like…hmm. No woman’s the same, but if you’ve riled them up properly, everything’s all warm and wet and squeezing around you. Like—here, give me your hand.”

“I...all right.” Leo’s face flushes so deeply red that it’s nearly painful, and hesitantly, he raises his hand. Whatever Izumi is about to do, he desperately wants to feel it.

_You really shouldn’t be teasing him this much,_ the last, logical little bit of his mind sing-songs, but Izumi can’t _really_ help himself, and that’s why bringing Leo’s hand to his mouth and wrapping his lips around a pair of those fingers is inevitable. When _else_ is he going to get a chance? Maybe using his tongue to thoroughly wet them isn’t _explicitly_ what it feels like when he’s in a woman, but his mouth being warm and wet when he sucks on them is probably close enough. “Like that,” Izumi breathes, eyes dancing, releasing them with a pop and a last little flick of his tongue. “More or less.”

Leo stares at Izumi for a long minute, as his cock attempts to punch a hole through his breeches. Finally, he remembers to breathe again, and stammers out, “I’m g-going to jump in the trough,” dashing out through the stall doors to do exactly that with an enormous splash.

Izumi blinks, then shrugs, examining the braid in Vale’s tail to find it to be satisfactory before he walks out of the stall after him. “Anyway, that’s what it feels like, Milord,” he calls, grinning and pleased with himself. “And I guess a girl’s mouth isn’t much different than a boy’s, so you’ve got a decent impression of that, too!” 

“Keep your voice down or I’ll drag you in here and drown you!”

“Ooh, sounds scary. You know I like cold water, right?” Izumi saunters closer. “And I could use a bath after last night. Scoot over, Milord, I’ll happily join you.” 

Leo scowls, then scoots over, elaborately bowing to the empty parts of the trough. “Serve you right if I pissed in it and left.”

“Why? What did I do wrong?” Izumi complains, and hops in, unconcerned about the cold. “I told you what you wanted to know, didn’t I? Maybe this is why no one will tell you anything.” 

“You sucked on my fingers, pervert. This is why no one will trust you even with a cat in private!”

“You wanted to know what it felt like, so I showed you!” Izumi pouts, and reaches up to pull his hair free of its tie, raking his fingers through it before he tilts his head back to dunk it in the water. “That’s not perverted, that’s helpful.” 

“Maybe up in the lawless North,” Leo says with a snort, splashing Izumi. “Boys don’t suck on each others’ fingers down here.”

Izumi frowns at him, and stretches a leg over, kicking him in the hip. “So I’ve noticed. In the North, no one cares, if you get married and carry on your line. If you’re a second or third son, you don’t even have to do that, you can just run off with a man.” 

_Take me there, please._ Leo clamps his jaw down on that longing, looking away with another shove to Izumi’s shoulder, just to keep up appearances. “No wonder everyone talks about you, if that’s the kind of immoral nonsense you grew up on.”

“It’s not _immoral_ ,” Izumi snorts, pointedly shoving down the irritation that wants to bubble up with those words. “It’s a preference. Girls kiss girls, boys kiss boys, boys kiss girls, who even cares. It’s a much easier way of being, if you ask me.” 

“Keep your voice down,” Leo says, suddenly hushed. “If the priests hear you, you’ll be forced into penance, heir of your house or no. They don’t like that sort of talk.” He growls a little, folding his arms on the edge of the trough. “Grandfather gave them too much power. Father started backing the Academy to put them back in their place, but now the Academy’s getting powerful. At least they don’t give a toss who you kiss.”

Izumi rolls his eyes, flopping back against the other end of the trough. “I think it’s all ridiculous,” he bluntly says. “When you’re king, tell everyone to get over it and just kiss whoever they like. The North’s had that part figured out for awhile—but maybe you should wait to figure that out when you go visit, hmm?” 

He hauls himself out of the trough with a flip of his hair, wringing it out and leaving it loose, unconcerned that he’s dripping wet everywhere else, with his clothes clinging to him. “My mother would think you’re a delight, at least.” 

“Well, I hope so,” Leo says with a sigh, standing as his body is in proper states now. “Especially since she’s one of the three people I’m allowed to kiss up there. Clearly, you are a more enlightened people.”

“Two people, remember? My mother’s off-limits.” Izumi smiles, and leans over, patting Leo’s shoulder. “My bitch of an aunt, and me. Ah, but she’s no fun, and you think I’m immoral, so—I guess no one works at all.” 

“I didn’t say _I_ think--I said the _priests_ \--I said people were talking, I didn’t say I was one of them,” Leo mutters, giving Izumi a swift punch to the shoulder.

“Then maybe, Milord, you should just start telling me what you think, instead of regurgitating the words people I don’t give a damn about.” 

“I did. You didn’t listen. So, open your ears.” Leo puts his hands on Izumi’s shoulders, squeezing hard, looking into his eyes. “I think trifling with married women is bad, and I think only bad things will come from it. I think you’re far too beautiful to have to worry about not having enough partners. And I think that if anything bad ever happens to you because of this hobby and I didn’t say something, I’ll lose my best friend for being a coward.”

_He thinks I’m beautiful_ , Izumi’s mind giddily remains stuck on until he snaps himself out of that with a shake of his head. “If something bad happens, you’ve warned me,” he simply says, his expression wry as he reaches up to squeeze one of Leo’s hands. “It’s not like I planned on this. I’m not saying I won’t take your advice, either. So…thank you for being worried, Milord. If it does turn sour, I promise I’ll bow out. All right?” 

Leo lets out a huge exhale, squeezing Izumi’s hands back. For just a moment, he has the mad idea that he could kiss Izumi and no one would stop him--Izumi doesn’t care, and there’s no one else here--but he hasn’t lived this long by being an idiot prince. He smiles, ducking his head, and then shakes his whole body out. discarding those feelings where he stands. “I’ll leave those thoughts in the stable. We can only talk about them in here, all right?”

“As you wish, Milord. I’m assuming the next time you ask me about women, however, you do _not_ want a demonstration that apparently leads you to jumping into a trough.” 

Leo pauses, then says finally, “Not unless we’re in the stables. Preferably in the stall with your enormous and ill-tempered horse that will keep everyone else away.”

Izumi’s mind immediately wants to take that to dirtier places, but… “Noted, noted. Aren’t you lucky that he loves you so much?” 

“Mm, he makes me think it might be worth it to ride a stallion. I mean, I know he isn’t one, but...” Leo shrugs, and winks, pulling his hands away. “I just think it might be fun to take a big stallion for a ride sometime. Ah, I’m late to my lessons, farewell!” And with that, he runs out the door, quick as a cat.

Izumi stares after him, then jumps back into the trough.


	25. Chapter 25

“My, but the poor child had promise, didn’t he?”

Leo’s uncle’s words echo in his ears as he dashes through the halls of the Palace, the soles of his feet slapping the cold stone. _Izumi can heal anything,_ he tells himself, heading towards the stables. He isn’t sure why he’s so sure that Izumi is there instead of in his chambers, but he’s as sure as he’s ever been about anything. Rodan’s voice had been impressed, but pitying, and no wonder--the whole court had seen Lord Karn lunge forward, his ear bleeding freely, rage transfixing his face, rapier extended all the way through Izumi’s gut, bloody tip extending out the other side of his back.

The murmurs around the court had been divided. Plenty of the nobles would have been pleased to see Izumi taken down a notch, after he’d made no secret of being willing to sleep with noble ladies and flaunt it. After seeing him take a notch out of Lord Karn’s ear, they’d tittered, amused, and cheered for him as being so audacious as to be adorable.

And then Lord Karn had struck. It was a non-regulation move, and one that had earned him a host of boos from the crowd. Not illegal, but non-regulation, the sort of thing that would have one disqualified from a show fight, but in a duel was simply poor sportsmanship. 

There’s a Healer in the Palace, but everyone knows that Healers are good for killing pain and soothing sickness, not for traumatic wounds or anything fast-acting. They’d rung for him, but by the time he’d showed up, Izumi had been gone.

And now Leo is following what he assumes is the trail, bursting into the stables, chest heaving. “Izumi?” he calls, trying not to sound frantic. _He healed my arm, surely he won’t die from this._ “Bastard page, where are you?”

“Here.”

The reply is a tired, breathless one, and Izumi’s pale hand stretches out over the top of his horse’s stall. Inside, he’s dragged in a bale of hay, which resulted in Vale eating it out from underneath him—slowly, as if he actually gives a damn about his master’s wounds. 

This one aches. It had been frightening, truth be told, to be struck like that. It hurts more than anything Izumi remembers, and bled so much that he could taste it. His blood-soaked shirt is slung over the door of the stall, and his fingers absently drag over the still-closing wound, fascinated now that he’s at least mostly certain he isn’t going to die. “That’s enough yelling, Milord,” he adds, tilting his head back until it thunks against the wood behind it. “I’m all right.” 

Leo vaults the stall door in a heartbeat, dropping down to his knees, fingertips resting on Izumi’s stomach, but nowhere near the wound. “It’s--you can heal it, right?” he asks, trying to swallow down the rest of his panic. “It doesn’t look that bad, but gut wounds can take a long time to kill--it went right _through_ you, are you--are you sure you’re--”

“It doesn’t look that bad because it’s already healing up. Ah, ow, don’t touch, everything’s sore,” Izumi groans, twisting away unhappily. He feels sick to his stomach, even if he’s already vomited twice (things he won’t tell Leo, that’s not cool). “It hurt like hell, I’m not going to lie,” he quietly admits. “But I think it’s fine. I know there’s a lot of blood, but it stopped not too long ago.”

“You were so impressive,” Leo whispers, because it’s so much better to say that than to give voice to his nerves. Izumi is still talking, still breathing, and that’s enough for right now. It’s more than the Healers could do for him, anyway. “My uncle said you have a lot of promise, and he’s the best swordsman in the realm.”

“Yeah? He’s all right, I guess,” Izumi flippantly dismisses, exhaling a ragged little laugh to dispel some of his lingering nerves. His stomach flip-flops again, and he sucks in a shuddering breath. “Hold on,” he says, and leans to the side, pushing his hair back before he empties what’s left of his stomach into the bucket he already dragged into the stall with him for that explicit purpose. 

Now, light-headed, shivering, but not feeling quite as ill, Izumi wipes his mouth, flopping back. “I don’t _recommend_ getting stabbed in the gut,” he breathes. “Gods, fuck him. I turned his lunatic wife down for the last week. She wanted me to run away with her.” 

“Just because you’re not _currently_ bedding her doesn’t mean he doesn’t have the right to challenge you,” Leo points out, though his fingers are still frantically petting gently over Izumi’s sides, far away from the wound. “I warned you, didn’t I? Have you learned your lesson yet about tumbling married women?”

“That’s…that’s not what I’m saying, I’m just saying he’s stupid, he tried to say I was still fucking her, gods, he’s dumb,” Izumi bemoans. “He deserved to fucking lose like that. Asshole. Go…go get some rags or something. As much as I like you touching me, you’re making me nervous and I want to wipe all this blood off to see what it looks like now.” 

Leo scurries out of the stall, climbing quickly up to the loft, grabbing a wad of cloth and dropping back down, pressing it over the wound. “Ah, you probably wanted cleaner ones, but this is all that’s at hand--do you want my shirt?”

“I’m not staining _your_ clothes with blood, I’ll get fucking killed for real,” Izumi mutters, shakily grabbing the cloth away from him and dunking it into Vale’s water bucket. “Sorry,” he apologizes to the horse, who pointedly doesn’t even look at him, and Izumi squeezes some of the water down over his stomach, letting it loosen that blood up before he carefully starts wiping it away. It still feels sore and fresh, and he gnaws a hole through his lower lip when he cleans it, but the actual wound itself is almost completely gone now, appearing as little more than a cat’s scratch across pale skin. “Pretty cool, huh?” he breathes. “Ah, gods, it still hurts, but…” 

Leo’s eyes are huge in his head, and he sits down heavily on the hay bale. “Gods. You really are blessed by the gods.”

“Something like that.” Izumi gingerly prods around the scratch, but withdraws his touch with an angry hiss. “Ow, _ow_ , it still hurts inside _so_ much. I guess that heals more slowly. I’ve never had an injury like this before.” 

Despite himself, Leo giggles, covering his mouth with one hand. “I just thought of how angry Lord Karn is going to be when you swagger in to Court tomorrow.”

“Still clutching his bleeding ear, no doubt,” Izumi says with a laugh, no matter how it makes him wince. “He deserves it! I wouldn’t’ve let that affair go on for so long if he hadn’t honestly been _awful_ to her. As it is, I have no pity for him; he deserves every bit of this.”

“But you’ll stop now, right?” Leo asks, urgently. “Trifling with married women? Servingmaids are just as tight between the thighs, or so I hear.”

“Can we not talk about this right now?” Izumi begs. “I’m a champion, I defeated a lord in an official duel. Milord, spoil me, I’m sore and tired.” 

“Fine, fine, have it your way. How would you like to be spoiled, eh?”

“I don’t knooow.” Izumi lists to the side, knocking his head against Leo’s shoulder. “Praise me. Tell me I’m still worthy of being your squire.” 

“Fool. I’d want you as my squire even if you couldn’t hold a sword, because of your heart.” Leo turns his head, pressing his face to Izumi’s hair. It’s not a kiss if it’s his mouth _and_ cheek, he reasons. “But watching you took my breath away. It was almost frightening, in an arousing sort of way. I heard lots of women saying they’d kill themselves if you died.”

_In an arousing sort of way._ Hearing Leo say that makes his heart thud too-fast, but Izumi represses the urge to grab him and make good on those words by kissing him. His fingers twitch. He almost doesn’t stop himself. Adrenaline still makes him stupid, he knows. “Yeah? That’s fair, I’m beautiful.” Izumi’s eyes lid, and he allows himself the luxury of curling both of his hands around Leo’s arm, feeling the easy, warm strength of him. “I meant it, back then. I’m not going to be anyone else’s squire, not until you take me as yours.” 

Leo exhales slowly, and nods. “I’ll swear to make you my squire when Father dies or retires, then. But you know that it might be quite a while, right? You’ll have far more renown and opportunities if you let someone else be your master. I’ll still ask the Captain of my Kingsguard to appoint you to the guard, no matter what. I don’t want you to sacrifice your ambitions for a gamble, even if I...”

“It’s not a gamble.” Izumi rubs his cheek against Leo’s shoulder. He can get away with this right now. He’s all dizzy and exhausted. “My ambitions include…mm, being yours, and, well, being yours. And maybe having at least four horses as excellent as Vale. And staying beautiful. At least let me accomplish one of those.”

“Well, I don’t think there are any horses in the world as excellent as Vale,” Leo says with a mock frown, petting Izumi’s fluffy hair. “So it’s down to two, like my kissing options in the North. I’ll know what you picked if I ever see you ugly, eh?”

“I could tolerate being ugly if it meant I could serve you.” 

The words leave his mouth before he can stop them, and Izumi flushes, swatting Leo’s hands away as he sits back abruptly. “Healing like this makes me feel drunk. Please don’t ever repeat the shit I’m saying right now, okay? I’ll die if you tease me about it later.” 

“Eh? Do you not want to really serve me?” Leo pets Izumi’s hair more firmly. “I want you to desperately, you know. I’m a really selfish prince. I’m trying to talk about you and your ambition and whatever, but really I just want you to serve me and only me, because I love you.”

“No, I meant the ugly part, I—“ Izumi tries to swat Leo’s hands away one last time, then gives up, and slowly slithers down until he just stretches across Leo’s lap. “I’m never going to serve anyone other than you. No one can make me, I’ll turn them all down.” 

“You’ll make enemies. I don’t know if you care about that, after today, but you will.”

“I’ve already made enemies, Leo. Sorry. Milord.” 

“I know.” The startlement of hearing his given name makes Leo flush, and he asks, hesitantly, “Is that how you think of me? In your mind, as Leo?”

“Yes. Traitorous, I know,” Izumi mutters, embarrassed. “It’s a good name.”

Leo’s mouth quirks up at one corner. “I thought...everyone just thought of me as The Prince, capital letters included.”

“Sorry, I’ve seen you fall off of Vale’s back too many times for that to be true.” 

Leo laughs, and discreetly peers around at Izumi’s stomach. “It’s gone completely, not even a line. Gods, that’s incredible. You’re never going to get ugly, even if you go to war.”

“Seriously? Thank the gods,” Izumi murmurs, rolling slowly onto his back, and giving his stomach another, delicate poke. It doesn’t immediately hurt now, but it’s still sore, as if he’d been kicked in the stomach. “I hope Lord Karn is pissed enough to try and challenge me again.” 

“Don’t go flaunting that,” Leo warns. “Ugh, I feel like I’m always scolding you because you’re behaving so badly! This is awful, you’re supposed to be my cute wife, not the other way around!”

Izumi blinks, then slowly, sweetly smiles up at him (too sweetly), reaching for the tail of Leo’s hair to gently tug it. “I can be a cute wife. Do you want to see me in a dress, Milord?” 

“Yes. And I’m going to commission a portrait of it.”

“Why do that when I’ll just wear one for you? You need a proper dancing partner at the next ball that isn’t going to make you write apology letters, don’t you?” 

Leo opens his mouth, then closes it again. “I mean. It _would_ be nice. I do have to dance with people all the same, you know, but it...hmm.” His smile turns dreamy, and he looks out through a window. “It would almost be like a faerie story, wouldn’t it? Like Lovely Elza and the Twelve Balls of Autumn. Will you be my secret dancing lover? It would scandalize the whole court, but it might be worth it.”

“Get me a wig and they’ll be none the wiser.” Izumi hesitates, then sighs as he slowly heaves himself up into a sitting position, raking a hand back through his hair to muss it. “I know the girls’ part better, anyway,” he confesses, his cheeks flushing. Yes, this is the kind of secret one tells when experiencing wha should be a mortal wound, he thinks. “My mother desperately wanted a daughter. I trained extensively as a dancer, right up until I came to the capital.” 

“What? And you’ve never let me see you dance?” Leo flicks Izumi in the shoulder. “I’m wounded. I’ve showed you all of my talents. I should compose something for you to dance to.”

“I’ll die,” Izumi groans, wiping his hands down his face. “Why do you think I had no formal training with a sword until I came to the capital proper? You can’t ever repeat any of this, I’ll hunt you down.” 

“I’m not hard to find!” Leo hesitates, then pulls a knife out of his sock, looking Izumi in the eye. Then he rests it at his own heart, and grabs Izumi’s hand, closing it over the hilt. “You don’t ever have to threaten me. If you want me dead, if I’ve ever fallen that low...I’ll help you.”

“Leo—Milord—“ Izumi falters, and jerks his hand back, taking the knife with him. “Don’t say things like that,” he scolds, stabbing the knife into the hay bale. “I was mostly teasing you, you know. I’d…I’d die for you.” 

“Okay, but give me my knife back, it was a present from my mom.”

“Don’t just hold it at your heart, then!” Izumi snaps, shoving it back over to him. “You talk about scolding me for bad behavior—I have to scold you all the time for being like this!”

Leo sheathes the knife, tucking it back into his boot. “But I’m not worried, when it’s you. Why should I be? No one takes better care of me than you.”

“Try to remember that more often, would you?” Izumi mutters. He chews on his lower lip, then says something _very_ stupid. “Anyway. Don’t be surprised if you actually have a partner that can dance properly at your next party. It’s not like I’ll be welcome in my own skin for a bit, heh.” 

“Mm, you should definitely lie low for a while. I know you’re fine, but it’ll be very suspicious if everyone else sees that you’re fine.” Leo slips an arm around Izumi’s waist, pulling him close. They’re friends. He can do that, he thinks. “I’m still worried they’ll send you away, if they find out.”

“I won’t let them find out. I’ll give it a day or two, at least.” This is fine. This is how friends touch. Well, maybe in the North, but in the capital…Izumi shrugs it off, leaning into the pull, unable to hide how pleased he is. “It missed all vital organs, you see,” he says with a bat of his eyelashes. “A miracle. I’ll even cut myself again before I show up at court, so it still looks fresh enough. I’ve been lurking underneath the rug for this long, L—Milord, _sorry_ , I can do it now still.” 

Leo laughs, and pulls back, tousling Izumi’s hair. “Can you control it? Make it look like a two-days-old wound? I have no idea how it works, honestly.”

“If I really focus on it, I can slow the healing down,” Izumi admits, pushing his bangs half-heartedly out of his face after Leo’s mussing. “I’ve played around with it, a little. Best to know, if I’m going to rely on it at all.” 

“Just don’t hurt yourself on purpose.” Leo feels like he’s at a loss, unable to go too long without touching Izumi, and he nudges his shoulder into Izumi. “I have a feeling you’ll collect enough hurts on your own without help.”

“I’ve gotten pretty good at that.” Izumi shifts underneath the nudge, and he nearly gives in. It would be so easy to do it, to grab Leo and kiss him and finally find out if his lips are as soft as they look… 

He’s the prince, you idiot, don’t go there.

_“I—“ Izumi swallows, then shakes his head. “Never mind. Ah, you should head back. You can let them know I’ve just run off, so I don’t need that healer. I’ll take Vale and go and they won’t know either way.”_

“All right.” For a moment, Leo feels as if there’s an odd charge in the air, as if something important had almost happened. But the next second it passes, and he grins again, heading off for the castle. “Take care of yourself, bastard page. _My_ bastard page.”

Izumi shudders, and tries to think of _anything_ but Leo’s stupid, gorgeous _everything._


	26. Chapter 26

Mao wakes, and pain explodes behind his eyes.

For a moment, his head aches so badly that he thinks he’s at the Academy still. He thinks Keito is there, staring at him so disapprovingly that his heart twists, curling and wrapping further around that magical poison. 

Then, he feels the bed underneath him, and shuts his eyes tighter, the already dim light of the room too much right now.

Ritsu. Where?

_Thinking back, did he say anything during the interrogation that the Academy could actually use? He hopes not. He can’t remember beyond struggling to make sure his mouth stayed shut. There’s even a sore spot in the middle of his tongue where he’d bitten it so hard that he came close to biting it in two. That would’ve been better than spilling anything useful._

But what about Ritsu?

_He groans, rolling onto his side, then slowly, painstakingly forcing himself up to an elbow before he wobbles and collapses back down. Well. The one godsend about this is he probably doesn’t work for the Academy anymore, so he doesn’t have any strict deadlines at the moment._

“Oh, you’re awake!” Ritsu’s face slowly looms into view from his other side, and cool hands grab at Mao’s, squeezing them tight, even as his eyes blink sleepily. “Ahhh....why couldn’t you have woken up at night, when I have energy? Come back to sleep.”

“Because normal humans wake during the day,” Mao mutters, grimacing at the sound of his voice, hoarse and rough from lack of use. Ritsu, alive and well, looking entirely undamaged, makes him relax. The grip of Ritsu’s hands is strong, far stronger than he can grip back, and he turns his face into a pillow. “How long until they find us?” 

“Long.” Ritsu’s eyes sting, and he looks away. “They can’t spare any men. If they do--he’ll get away, they know it.”

Mao pauses, feeling a surprising lack where normally, he can always feel the odd tug of the Demon King. Cut, neatly, setting him free of his pact—that’s not what he wants to wake up to, not when he vaguely remembers the rest of why. “…I’m sorry. If I hadn’t been stupid, I would’ve just killed myself after I got caught. Then you could’ve had your brother.”

“I do.” Ritsu forces a little smile, and curls up, head on Mao’s heart, just where that ugly burn mark lingers. “I took it from you. The pact. He let me. Now I can talk to him, at least, even if they’ve got him right now. I’ll get him out, though, and you’re safe.”

“…The Academy’s not going to let him go easily.” Every single part of him feels sore, but Mao bites down a complaint, and instead, gingerly slides his arms around Ritsu to pull him closer. “It was only a matter of time, I guess,” he murmurs. “Still. I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah. You lost me my brother, so that’s bad,” Ritsu says with a yawn. “You’ll have to take his place.” He nuzzles at the bottom of Mao’s jaw, eyes lidded. “Little bit different, though.”

“Um,” Mao wearily says, not even having that much of a desire to argue with Ritsu’s logic. “I should hope it’s different. Where are we, anyway? How safe are we? How am I alive, exactly? You know, every single time you shift on my chest, I have trouble breathing.” 

“Oh. That’s lame.” Ritsu considers moving to the side, but Mao is warm and comfortable. “Well, let me know if your breath stops completely, I guess. Mm, we’re in High Harbor. It’s my brother’s estate, but there’s puppet nobility running it. Puppets like they’re not real nobles, not like they’re actual puppets.”

“…So how safe is that?” Mao lowly presses. “I didn’t know about this place, but there’s nothing to say the Faerie doesn’t, or some other old associate of your brother’s. Ah—s-seriously, sorry.” He winces, shifting sideways, gently dislodging Ritsu. “That hurts like hell.” The tightness in his chest doesn’t go away immediately, and he shuts his eyes, exhaling a slow, shaky breath. “This better be temporary, I’m too young to be magic-scarred.” 

“You’re whiny,” Ritsu complains, rolling off the bed to lay on the floor. “You got rescued from torture and death, and all you’re doing is complaining because you got a sexy scar, super rude.”

Mao feels his patience start to fray. “You’re right. I’m terribly ungrateful.” He shuts his eyes, rolling onto his side. “I didn’t say you had to get off the bed, just that you couldn’t lie on me right now.” 

“Too late. I’m down here. You didn’t even apologize for getting caught and making me worried.” Ritsu sniffs, rubbing his nose on his sleeve. “I flew for you. I haven’t done that in thirty years.”

“I did apologize. That was the second thing I said, after ‘how long until they find us’?” Mao heaves a long sigh, draping his arm off the side of the bed. “Ritsu. You didn’t have to do any of that, I’m sorry you did.” 

“I’m not sorry. I wanted you to be safe. I’d do it again. Ehhh, but my wings are sore, you should rub them for me.”

Ritsu turns his head to the side, nuzzling against Mao’s hand, eyes closing. “Does your chest hurt seriously a lot?”

“I’ll rub your wings.” Mao’s fingers limply curl against Ritsu’s cheek, then back up through his hair, gently petting him. “It feels like I inhaled smoke for days—that kind of tightness. Hopefully it’ll go away, but I know a thing or two about magic scars, and I don’t like any of it.” 

“I actually don’t know that much about magic scars,” Ritsu admits. “But I bet Izumi can take care of that for you. Mm, you should leave the mark, though. It’s really sexy.”

“It’s a common side effect from anyone that has been magically poisoned. I’ve seen it a few times firsthand, in the Academy, being around for some interrogations myself. Localized numbness or pain if it’s a limb that was heavily involved, blindness…and I guess in this case, because it went for the kill…” Mao trails off, his eyes lidding, and his fingers curl against Ritsu’s scalp. “I didn’t say anything about you. Or your brother. I hope you can believe me.” 

“I believe you,” Ritsu says immediately, because it’s true. He nuzzles against Mao’s hand, reaching up to brush Mao’s hair back from his face. “Are you blind? Why’d they let it go for the kill, if they were trying to torture you? Man, they’re no good at their jobs.”

“Not blind,” Mao reassures him. “Just hurts when I breathe, because that’s helpful. Ah, I think they realized I was useless, after awhile. They used the worst poison and I just tried to bite my tongue in two so I couldn’t say anything.”

“Rude. The only one biting your tongue in two should be me. You don’t even have the fangs for it.”

“Ritsu…will you please just get back on the bed? You’re going to get cold down there.” 

“I’ve lived alone for hundreds of lives of mankind,” Ritsu drones, voice sepulchral. “Now I am alone again, for Mao does not desire my body.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. If you’re not going to get on the bed, then I’m done petting you.” 

Ritsu’s eyes snap open, and he climbs back onto the bed, grumbling to himself as he winds his arms around Mao’s waist, taking care to rest his head on Mao’s arm this time instead of his chest. “Not negotiable.”

“Better,” Mao murmurs, draping an arm back around Ritsu to slowly pet down his back. “Now, are you going to do me the favor of explaining your fixation, or keep up the mystique of being a half-blood for the rest of your life?” 

“Please elaborate, which of my strange parts are we talking about?”

“The part where you call me your mate and generally threaten everyone else with bodily harm if they come near me.” 

“Oh.” Ritsu closes his eyes, snuggling closer. “Do you hate it when I talk like that?”

“No. I’d just prefer to understand what you mean, when you say that sort of thing.” Mao’s fingers still against the back of Ritsu’s neck. “I’m a human, remember? There’s a limit to what I know and can feel naturally.”

“I know. I just...hmm. I thought you might like it if I put it in demon terms.” Ritsu feels his pulse adjusting, beating more slowly, regulating himself to Mao’s pulse. It feels natural like that. “You’ve lived around wizards for a long time. You know how they can feel a resonant bond?”

“The Emperor would like us to believe that’s nonsense,” Mao wryly points out, his eyes lidding. “I don’t think that’s true, but…I always thought it was just for half-bloods, or extremely talented wizards.” 

“It is...kind of.” Ritsu tries to smile, but it doesn’t work. That happens to him sometimes. “The thing is, wizards can only form them with other wizards, as far as I know. And wizards are the only ones that can see them. But half-bloods, we can form them with anyone--but we can’t see them. Me and my brother are special.”

“I see.” Mao’s fingers slowly, gently start to stroke against the back of Ritsu’s neck again. “Sorry that I’m just a regular human, then. I can’t see it.” 

“I was just...really hoping...that you could, I guess,” Ritsu says softly, eyes closing. “Because you can do some magics. But I guess I knew deep down that you couldn’t. It’s fine.”

“To be fair…everything I can do is because I’ve worked hard to learn it,” Mao quietly points out. “If I know what I’m looking for, there’s nothing to say I can’t learn how to see it.” He hesitates, giving the ends of Ritsu’s hair a soft tug. “Either way, it’s not like I’m…telling you to stop feeling at it.” 

“I mean, I can’t stop feeling it. No matter what. It’s really unfair that you can’t see it, but...” Ritsu shrugs, and buries his face in Mao’s shoulder. “Basically I’ll never love anyone but you, which is dumb and shitty because you’re allowed to love anyone.”

Mao’s mouth snaps shut, any replies swiftly dying from his tongue. “…In case you haven’t noticed,” he points out with a soft laugh, resting his chin atop Ritsu’s head. “I don’t exactly spend my time looking at anyone else.” 

“Yeah, but you’ve been locked up in the Academy. Now you can go free-range. And you’re sexy, everyone is going to want you.”

“I spend a great deal of time traveling for the Academy, Ritsu. I’m not exactly bound the way wizards are. And yet,” Mao dryly says, rubbing Ritsu’s hair the wrong way, “here I am, ignoring the way your patrons grab me on a regular basis.”

“You’re _destroying_ my style,” Ritsu complains. “Ugh, this is why I didn’t tell you. You’re gonna feel like you _have_ to be in love with me.”

“You don’t have a style, this is just how you roll out of bed in the morning.”

Mao falls silent for a moment, slowly dragging his fingers along Ritsu’s scalp, petting him in the exact way that he knows Ritsu likes. “I don’t feel like I _have_ to be in love with you,” he eventually says. “But I do feel like I’m finally allowed to be. Now I’m not bound to the Demon King.” 

Ritsu feels his pulse stop.

It does that sometimes, when he’s truly focused on something, and he’s never focused on anything like this. It takes an effort of will to start it going again, and he slowly opens his eyes, looking up at Mao’s face. “Really? You...you don’t mind? You’re not--are you messing with me? Or do you just feel sorry for me?”

“Are you mad? Your brother would kill me,” Mao says with a snort. “If you didn’t first. I’m not an idiot, Ritsu. Let me say what I want to say without you questioning me.” 

Ritsu swallows hard. It’s not easy, with how dry his throat is, but he manages it. “A-all right.” _Please don’t break my heart, it’s in your hands._

Well—damn, now having said that, maybe saying what he wants to say is…rather difficult. 

Mao heaves a sigh, his gaze sliding sideways. “I swore a pact with your brother when I was still a child,” he quietly begins, “because I had one goal in mind, and only one goal—to tear the Academy apart, starting from the inside out.” 

His hand slides down to grab for Ritsu’s. “My sister bloomed when she was…abnormally young. She was three. She couldn’t control any aspect of her powers, so they took her away, had an emergency meeting about it, and killed her. I thought about it day and night, and I left, trying to go to the Academy myself, if only to retrieve her body. You can imagine how stupid that was, right? I was barely seven, I couldn’t wield a sword or magic, and I thought…this would work. This would make my parents stop crying. Your brother found me, stopped me, and swore he would help me if I helped him.” 

His fingers squeeze slowly. “Your brother took her body and buried it in the Shadowlands, so no one would find it, and no one could keep…desecrating her. For research. So I swore I’d help him, and he flung me into the Academy, right into their hands, and I _hated_ him for making me do this. It made my parents stop talking to me, of course. They lost both of their children, in their eyes, to the Academy. I hated him more when he finally made our paths cross because I thought—great, I’m just a glorified babysitter. Now I have the Demon _Prince_ to cater to as well. What am I doing, except being the errand boy of the Emperor _and_ the Demon King? All I did was escort wizards to their fate, which could have been my sister…or could have been you, if they found out who you were. This isn’t helping destroy this place, I thought.” His mouth twists wryly. “And then he had me start to shadow your activities more and more…and had me start influencing your patrons, to make sure you were taken care of…and I realized you weren’t anything like him. You were out in the thick of it. You were a spy for _actual_ men, those on the battlefield, actually _doing_ something. Thank the gods, I thought. Ritsu isn’t like his brother, he’s not so…manipulative, and c-cold, and…” 

Mao trails off for a moment, fighting down the urge to sniffle, and he sucks in a sharp breath through his mouth instead. “I know…n-no one else thinks of the Demon King like that, and I know he’s your brother. But after all this time, I still don’t know what use I was to him, other than to watch you, or to shuffle around the Academy’s wizards like they were pawns on a chessboard. The only good thing that came out of all of this was that I got to meet you.” 

“M-m--”

Ritsu bites back a sob, and wraps his arms around Mao, as hard as he can without hurting him, tears flooding onto Mao’s shirt. “I think my brother’s shit too,” he sniffs, nails wavering and losing their shape for a moment, wanting to blur into claws, but he won’t let them. “B-but I think you’re perfect, you know? You’re so--strong, and quiet, and cool, and smart, and I’m not as good a spy as you are, but I want you to like me so bad--it’s so stupid, I’m eighty years old and you make me feel...like no one’s ever taken care of me right before.”

“W-well, if you’re used to your brother, maybe no one has,” Mao manages with a wet laugh, grabbing for Ritsu and crushing him close, even if it takes his breath away. He presses his lips to the top of Ritsu’s head, squeezing his eyes shut. “Every time I saw you again, it was like someone had set down a mark in the sand—like it was supposed to happen, if that makes sense,” he whispers. “Even if you did things that were so _stupid_ sometimes, I just…I don’t know. Being around you felt right, so even this happening feels right, even if it hurts like hell.” 

“That’s it,” Ritsu whispers. “That’s it--that’s how it is when you find your resonant bond. And when you’re apart--doesn’t it _hurt_? It hurts me all the time...I didn’t know regular humans could sense it at all, didn’t it drive you mad?”

“I mean…I worry to death about you all the time, does that count? It’s distracting.” Mao worries at his lower lip, squeezing Ritsu tight a moment longer before he has to release him, fighting down the urge to cough. “I, ah, to be fair,” he breathes, “wonder how normal of a human I am nowadays. I’ve studied magic for so long, and with your brother sort of helping me limp along through some of the more complicated arts…who even knows.” 

“Mm, he’s definitely been tweaking you,” Ritsu murmurs, eyes unfocusing to better look at Mao’s aura. “Nothing so much that the Academy would see it--unless they were looking for it, But why would they, you know?”

“I do feel bad, in a way,” Mao admits, slowly rolling onto his back and draping an arm over his face. “Not everyone in the Academy is terrible. Ah…but I feel worse about every wizard that probably is going to be interrogated if I had contact with them. It’s a mess. I’m just…so relieved that you aren’t there anymore.” 

“It might not be that way,” Ritsu offers. “My brother might just kill everyone at the Academy, so no one will get tortured.”

“That’s not…encouraging, Ritsu. Death, in general, isn’t.” 

“Oh. Humans are weird. Death is good sometimes.”

“It’s not in this situation. We’re trying to save people, remember?” 

“Are we?” Ritsu cocks his head. “I thought we were trying to bring down the Academy. That’s going to save people in the end, right? Ah...I’m missing the point, aren’t I?”

“A little.” Mao sighs, reaching over to muss Ritsu’s hair gently. “It’s okay. The point is to avoid as many people dying as possible, you know? Before and after we bring down the Academy. We’ve already had too many close calls.” 

Ritsu nods. “It’s hard for me to see it like you,” he admits, “because I’m so old, I guess. I’ve seen...I’ve seen so many people die, it just doesn’t feel the same anymore. But when I think about you, or my other friends...I really don’t want them to die. So I’ll try to think about everyone else like that, I guess.”

“You’re eighty, not a million,” Mao wryly says, coming Ritsu’s bangs back from his face to better look at him. “But yes, that’s the way to go about it. Just imagine everyone else in the Academy is me or something.” 

“Too many Maao’s. I’ll die of dehydration.”

“I…what? Why would that dehydrate you?” 

“Wait, what’s the age of consent? How old are you? Am I allowed to make sex jokes, or are you too little?”

“Ritsu, I’m twenty-six.” 

“Yeah, but I dunno how old that is,” Ritsu lies, mouth curling into a smile. “Is that a teenager?”

“You know exactly how old it is,” Mao scolds, pulling on Ritsu’s hair. “And you know what a teenager is. It’s what you act like, most of the time.” 

“Ahh, really? Damn...I’m pretending to act like way older than I feel...I wanna be little enough that you have to take care of me all the time. That’s my permanent employment.”

“I’m not interested in children,” Mao deadpans, flicking Ritsu’s forehead next when the hair pulling seems to not affect him. “Act like an adult, that’s what I like.” 

“Mm, but I like being taken care of? It’s like we’ll never reach a resolution,” Ritsu says with a sigh, leaning up and snapping his teeth at Mao’s finger. “Now that I know you’re bonded to me too, you can’t leave me. Nice.”

“I’ll take care of you even if you’re an adult, pay attention,” Mao sighs, withdrawing his hand. “And I have no interest in leaving you, bond or no bond. You’re pretty helpless, when left to your own devices.”

“Only because I like being taken care of. But I can be adult if I want to. Wanna see how adult I can be?” Ritsu asks with a little hum. He rolls to the side, straddling Mao’s hips, blinking sleepily down at him. Then he leans in, and whispers in Mao’s ear, “General rule, that if the principal purpose for forming, or availing of, such personal service corporation is the avoidance or evasion of national income tax by reducing the income of, or securing the benefit of any expense, deduction, credit, exclusion, or other allowance--”

Mao growls, shoving a hand up and over Ritsu’s mouth. “There’s adult and then there’s _tedious_ ,” he hisses, annoyed that his face flushes the second Ritsu climbs on him. “Don’t quote tax law at me, that just makes me think of Keito.” 

“Rude, I was a tax lawyer before he was born. For like...three weeks. Taxes are boring.” 

Ritsu shifts his hips slightly, one eyebrow raising. “I was sitting down here because I didn’t wanna hurt your chest, but you like it, huh? What a pervert.”

“It’s a natural reaction, it doesn’t mean I’m a pervert!” Mao protests, squirming to get away, which would be a lot easier if Ritsu wasn’t dead weight and he wasn’t still wheezing off and on. “This is _your_ fault, isn’t it?” 

“Ehh, it is? Oh, then you’re always hard whenever I’m around?” Ritsu’s eyes glint, his body starting to wake up now that the sun is setting. “You can keep squirming if you want, but I can think of better ways to take care of it.”

“I…I didn’t say that.” Mao’s face flushes redder, and he pointedly turns his head to the side. “You don’t have to do anything.” It’s not like this hasn’t ever happened before, and he’s ignored it, and that’s been fine.

“But you don’t have weird underwear,” Ritsu points out. “Why don’t you just take it out? I’ll suck it, if you want. I’ll keep my fangs away and everything.”

“…How sure are you that your brother isn’t going to come for me and kill me if you do that?” 

Ritsu makes a sudden, disgusted face. “He’s not the keeper of my arsehole,” he says, blinking at the oddity of the statement. “Or my lips, weird. Is that how humans do it?”

“N-no, gods, no, I—“ Mao exhales a hard breath, and then stifles a cough, fluttering his other hand dismissively. “I-it’s because—for so long, he _really_ didn’t even want us talking. I didn’t want him to overhear through the pact or something, it’s so awkward…” 

Ritsu makes a face, then grinds down, very deliberately, with a sinuous wiggle of his hips. “Does that mean...that you’re a virgin? Ah, is twenty-six old for that or not...”

“I’m—listen, I’ve had a woman before!” Mao protests, and he breathlessly grabs for Ritsu’s shirt pulling him down, trying to still him. “I’d much rather…be an active participant in this,” he manages, brow furrowing. “So if you want that, too—we should wait. I—“ He licks at his lips, his gaze flicking sideways. “I want you to be able to drink from me, too.” 

Ritsu’s breath catches, eyes narrowing to slits. He licks his lips, feeling the prick of his fangs against them as they start to emerge even without him meaning them to. That hasn’t happened in a _long_ time, not to this extent. “I’m gonna get off you now,” he breathes, trying to keep himself under control. “That...mmm, Maaaao, that’s basically the most erotic thing you can say to a bloodbred, not fair....”

“I didn’t know that,” Mao fairly squeaks, hands on Ritsu’s chest. “Be good, be good. I-I was just trying to—I don’t know—ah, Ritsu, _please_ be good…” 

With an enormous feat of will, Ritsu actually throws himself physically off of Mao, flinging himself into the wall with a grunt of impact. “Ow. Didn’t mean to go so hard. Had to get off of you, ow. I’m good, see? I’m really good.”

“Yes, you’re _so_ good,” Mao firmly says, scooting further back against the headboard. He hesitates, wary now, unsure if he should encourage Ritsu for later or not. “Later,” he emphasizes instead, “you can do whatever you want, and that includes…what we just talked about. But I’m not going to be any fun if I start coughing on you, am I? Or if you can’t even lay on my chest or anything.” 

Ritsu rolls across the floor, then climbs back onto the bed. “I’m okay, I’m okay. I just, uh, needed a second, and probably to be knocked into a wall. It’s okay, I’ll hold you to later.”

“Please don’t knock yourself into a wall again,” Mao sighs, gingerly reaching out to pet Ritsu’s head. “Sorry. I really didn’t know.” 

Ritsu smiles sweetly, turning to press a kiss to Mao’s palm. “It’s really fine, yeah? I just didn’t wanna hurt you, bumping into a wall isn’t gonna hurt me. Mm, now I know I have to be on my guard for super erotic Maao.”

Mao’s fingers gently curl against Ritsu’s cheek. “If that’s what you’re going to call me, sure,” he says with a wry laugh, his eyes lidded. “Next time, you can eat me alive.” 

Ritsu groans, and grabs himself between the legs, squeezing hard. “Behave,” he orders himself. “Heh, maybe I need that stupid special underwear, huh?”

“Like you’d keep it on for more than a second.” 

“Correct. Heh. Snuggle me.”


	27. Chapter 27

“You need a _what?_ ” 

Mika, on the floor at Shu’s feet, had merely stared up at Izumi. “Are your ears bad?” 

“No, obviously not, you little smartass—“

“Then go get it.” 

Izumi leaves, if only so this insane argument ends. 

Pounding on Arashi’s door is the only logical solution, because _what the hell._ It would be good if he could decipher the nonsense that _his_ crazy wizards spew. 

Arashi opens the door barefoot, in breeches and an open shirt with sword in hand, hair tumbling in a golden spill over his shoulders, eyes wide and searching for trouble. “What’s wrong? Is there an attack?”

“Put your damned sword down and stop looking so attractive. _Your wizards_ ,” Izumi bites out, sliding past him with a last, wary glance down the hall, “are insane.” 

Arashi sheathes his sword, hanging it again by the door, just an inch free of the sheath for quick draw. He flops back on the bed, purposely tousling his hair again. “What, my wizards specifically? I’m not disagreeing, just curious about context.”

“Yes, _your_ wizards specifically,” Izumi grouses, shutting the door firmly. He stares at Arashi for a moment, then shakes himself off forcibly, wiping his hands down his face. “Shu just tried to send me to the Sandlands to harvest a _foot._ ” 

“Oh.” Arashi swings his feet back up on the bed, blinking at Izumi. “Do you need to borrow a horse? The Sandlands aren’t _that_ far, I bet Vale could make it in like a week.”

“Stop, stop,” Izumi interrupts, holding up his hands. “Don’t tell me you’re okay with this. Didn’t Mika lose an eye to this shit?” 

Arashi blinks. “I mean, yeah. But I assumed you’ve got enough scruples to pay a consenting adult for it instead of paying some lady to carve up her baby.”

“Why would any adult _consent_ to that? I’d have to chop off their damned foot, who the hell can put a price on a limb? They can’t possibly be _truly_ consenting, either, who in their right mind would?” Izumi scowls, folding his arms across his chest. “This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard of.”

“They consent because the price is seriously high,” Arashi explains, “and a lot of the prostitutes in the Sandlands need the money for drugs. Wizards need them for almost every big spell. And since there are lots of brothels that cater to those who like amputees, they’re not even compromising their future moneymaking possibilities. That’s how Mika explained it to me, anyway. Why’d you think there were so many folks missing parts down there? What did you think they were _doing_ with them?”

“I don’t know. I thought it was just a sex thing. It’s the Sandlands, you know?” Izumi drops himself down onto the side of Arashi’s bed, heaving a sigh. “I don’t feel right about this. I don’t want to go and chop the foot off of a prostitute, what the hell.” 

Arashi shrugs. “I’m not going. Last time I was in the Sandlands I almost died, and Mika isn’t going, so I’m staying here. It’s all you, sweetheart. You’re still Shu’s attache.”

“I don’t want to go. The last time _I_ was in the Sandlands—“ Izumi’s lips purse, and he shakes his head. “Pass. I’d rather cut off my own foot and give it to him.” 

“Don’t be dumb, there are markets for this kind of thing. Why are you so squeamish about this?”

“It’s creepy. I can’t _guarantee_ that the person really wants me to chop their foot off for drugs or whatever. Why aren’t you _more_ bothered by this? Are you secretly into stubs?”

Arashi yawns, flopping back into his pillows. “I’ve been around wizards too long, I suppose. If I were into stubs, I’d go get someone with them. Seriously, if you’re preventing him from freeing the Demon King because you’re squeamish, he’s going to throw you into the pot.”

“Fine, let him. I’m not going.” 

Izumi flops onto his back, curling up at the foot of Arashi’s bed. “Throw me into the pot for him. I don’t want to go cut off feet, that’s too fucked up even for me.” 

“Izumi. You’re his attache. It’s your duty.” Arashi doesn’t look tired anymore, eyes sharp. “Sorry if you thought your job was going to be easy, but I’m still your Captain and you still have to do as you’re ordered.”

“Can’t you humor me for literally five minutes?” Izumi rolls, presenting Arashi with his back when his eyes threaten to start watering. “I don’t want to go back to the Sandlands.” _I don’t want to be apart from Leo again_ also lingers on the tip of his tongue, but Izumi bites down on that, hard. 

Arashi just stares. “I’m...really not seeing what you expect me to do,” he admits, laying a hand on Izumi’s back. “I’m still your Captain, you know. I don’t know why you think I’m going to say you don’t have to do your duty? Imagine the shit _I’ve_ seen, I was courier to the Academy for years.”

“I don’t expect you to say I don’t have to do it. I…” Izumi huffs out a wet breath, and slowly twists around, staring at Arashi. “Tell me stories about how shitty being a courier was,” he mutters. “Or…anything, I don’t care, I just don’t want to think about the Sandlands for a few more minutes.” 

“Hmm.” Arashi reaches up, playing with Izumi’s hair. “Ahh, that’s much longer now, excellent. Oh, my first job as a courier was to bring tax tithes to the Academy, and _everyone_ in the Greenfields decided to pay in live chickens that year. Ugh, I have adored eating chickens ever since, thinking about them dying. They’re stupid, they _smell_ , and I couldn’t feel good about putting them in bags, so I eventually _bought_ a cart to transport them, and the Academy didn’t even pay me back! I still have that stupid chicken cart somewhere, back at my estate. I told my executor to use it to haul dung and fertilizer to and from the fields.”

“I forget you have an estate sometimes,” Izumi murmurs. “Mostly because you never offer to take me there. Are you hiding your wife and fifteen children there?” 

Arashi makes a face. “Ugh, women, no. I’ll flirt with them in the Capital to make everyone think I’m not a complete deviant, but the idea of touching one...honestly, it’s disgusting. Don’t know how you do it.”

“ _Really._ That must be difficult. They’re soft and smell nice and…” Izumi trails off sulkily. “Not that it matters. I’ve sworn them off.” 

“Please. They have big bags of fat hanging off them. How does that not make your skin crawl?”

“…Tits. You mean tits. They’re all right. I mean, I prefer ladies with less of them, I’ll agree with you there.” Izumi’s eyebrows raise. “Are you just not going to produce an heir, then?” 

Arashi shrugs, looping an arm around Izumi’s waist and pulling him close. “I figure I’ll just do what any other man like me would do, and marry some lady, then let someone else tie her bustle on backward.”

“Just marry my mother.” It’s only half a joke. Izumi buries his face into Arashi’s chest, his own arms slinging around his neck. “She only loves ladies, I’m fairly certain. And is barren, besides. So you’re marrying her for the land and title, and you’ve got an instant heir, me.” 

Arashi blinks slowly. Then, he shrugs one shoulder. “Sounds good, my son. As soon as she stops attacking the entire world, I’ll send her a missive. I’m not joking at all, by the way. I won’t bother her at all, make sure she knows.”

“Don’t call me that ever again.” Izumi glares threateningly at a nipple. “This should be proof of how much I like you. Don’t ruin it now.” 

“Oh, be honest, it’s just proof of how much you want to own my lands when I inevitably die someday,” Arashi says with a laugh. “Nothing’s set in stone yet, but it would be _nice_ , since I’ve got money and you’ve got the old titles. Now neither of us need to be looked down on in Leo’s court, hmm? Assuming we all survive until he’s crowned.”

“Ah, yes, inhospitable mountains, my favorite sort of land to take,” Izumi dryly retorts. He shifts closer, slinging a leg over Arashi’s hip to make sure he’s plastered against him. “Calling the prince by name now, hmm?” 

“Why not? He’s dead, so I can call him whatever I like until his resurrection, right?” Arashi drags a hand down Izumi’s spine, trying to make him shiver. “Do you call him Your Highness in bed?”

“No,” Izumi half-heartedly growls, snapping his teeth lightly against the front of Arashi’s throat. He does shiver, damn him, and he flexes his nails against Arashi’s back. “ _I’m_ allowed to call him Leo. Or Milord, if I’m bullying him.” 

“Mm, like he calls you bastard page? Heh, do you just come all over yourself if anyone does that, or just him?” Arashi teases, dragging his fingers up again, ignoring the provocation.

Izumi huffs at that, pulling on the ends of Arashi’s hair when he doesn’t respond to his initial gnawing. “ _Only_ Leo gets to say that, to hell with you,” he mutters, eyeing Arashi’s neck before fastening his mouth to the side of it, sucking deliberately when his fingers go for a nipple. If Arashi’s not going to play fair, _well…_

Arashi squeaks, then bats Izumi’s hand away, shoving him back. “Ahh, you’re playing naughty. Trying to distract me? I’ve even been _nice_ about not bringing up your obvious failure to tumble Morisawa.”

“Bring it up all you want, I still kissed him and got an offer for _later_. Gods, he was just too much of an optimist and I had just stopped that Academy spy from dying, I wasn’t in the mood,” Izumi complains, immediately crawling back over to nestle back up to Arashi, nuzzling up to his ear. “Play with me, I’m fun, and I don’t expect you to come every damned time.” 

Arashi skillfully turns his head, giving Izumi a face full of hair. “I’m a taken lady, you damned rake. Go get Shu his body parts, then I’ll consider it.”

“I already told you, cut off my foot.” Izumi hesitates, then reluctantly says, “It’ll grow back. I think.” 

“Eh? You were serious?” Arashi sits up, frowning. “How sure are you? Have you ever had anything cut off before?”

Izumi opens his mouth, considers how to answer that when his memory is decidedly fuzzy, and finally says, “Maybe? Who knows. You know, maybe I need to be drunk for this.” 

“If you do cut it off, does it reattach, or do you grow a new one? We have _got_ to test this,” Arashi says, a little too excited, reaching for the dagger he keeps under his pillow.

“I’m…pretty sure it grows a new one?” Izumi warily says, eyeing Arashi. “That’s how lizards are. I think I’m at least some kind of reptile. Can we try it with a toe or something first, just in case?” 

“Sure, sure. Gimme your foot. Wait, no, we shouldn’t do this in my bed.”

“Well, I’m not doing it somewhere less comfortable! Get an old blanket or something, put that down. And a bottle of wine, I know you stash them.” 

“What, my _good_ wine?” Arashi asks, scandalized. “That isn’t for drinking a whole bottle of, that’s for savoring with fish!”

“I’ll savor a damned fish with you later. Am I not worth your good wine? I thought you loved me.” 

Arashi’s mouth twists unhappily, and he gets off the bed, pulling his closet open to reveal a wide assortment of fancy suits and soldier’s uniforms, and hidden behind a panel, a rack of wine. “You can have a bottle,” he says grumpily, “but we’re _not_ doing it on my bed. It’s the one thing I own that never smells like blood.”

“Fine, fine.” Izumi rolls off of the bed, pulling up a chair instead. “I don’t bleed like a normal human, you know. It’s not going to gush or anything.” 

“Yuck,” Arashi says frankly. He looks around, then grabs a stool that he doesn’t care too much about, propping it firmly in front of Izumi. “Don’t worry, you know how obsessive I am about knife sharpness.”

“Gods, I don’t want to do this,” Izumi grouses, and he toes off one of his very finely woven socks and props his foot up on the stool. “I don’t know if it should be the little toe or what. If it doesn’t grow back, I don’t want my balance to be off, but I don’t know what’s more noticeable…” 

“Ooh, I’ll just do a knuckle from one of the middle ones,” Arashi decides. “Then your balance won’t be off, and you can always kinda scoot them together if you need to hide it.”

“Are you sure that’ll work?” Izumi frets, wiggling his toes. “Won’t it be harder to cut that one cleanly, though? If you miss and cut my other toes, I’ll be pissed.” 

“Bitch, I don’t miss what I want to cut,” Arashi says frankly, and pulls a corkscrew out of his cabinet, opening the wine with a wince. “I’ll miss this bottle...I was saving it. But by all means, use it to save yourself a trip to the Sandlands because you’re lazy and squeamish.”

“Fuck you, if that’s what you think I’m doing,” Izumi snaps. “Just fucking cut it off already. I hope it spurts blood on your stupid, very nice chest.” 

Arashi shrugs. “Okay.” 

Then, before Izumi can move or tense, he grabs Izumi’s ankle to hold him steady, and in the next heartbeat, severs the lower joint of a middle toe clean off.

Izumi bites down on a curse, and promptly snatches up that bottle of wine, downing a huge mouthful. “ _Ow_ ,” he hisses out, pointedly _not_ looking at the severed joint. He’s not squeamish, but damned if he hasn’t found that looking at it makes him far more aware of pain existing. “That stings. Oh, there it goes, I can already feel it coming back. It’s barely bleeding, I know, I can barely feel it dripping.” 

Arashi gingerly picks up the severed joint, watching it as if it’ll disappear at any moment. “Huh. Doesn’t seem to be shrinking or shriveling up or whatever. It seems pretty normal. You think your body parts would even work in a spell, if he needs human?”

“I’m human enough,” Izumi moodily points out, taking another long drink straight from the bottle. “Guess I should probably ask, though, before I let you lop my entire foot off.”

“Makes it mooore powerful, actually. Half-bloods are rare.” 

Izumi jumps, entirely missing when Mika must have snuck back in, now lurking behind Arashi with a stare that’s _far_ too interested. “Uh—“

“This is _real_ cool,” he says, eyes gleaming. “It’s like an endless supply…Master’s gonna be thrilled—“

“I’m not a body part farm!” Izumi snaps, even though when he glances down, his toe is _definitely_ back to normal, if not a bit sore. “This is a one-time occasion.”

“Uh huh, sure. Hey, _kara_ , you should let me cut it off.” 

“Ah...Mika, _amaka_ , I’ve seen you butcher a roast. And I do mean butcher. No offense, but I’ll do it.” Arashi pauses, dagger glinting, and asks, “Wait, I remember that once you smashed your hand and Shu numbed it, can he still do that?”

“Ehh, but I didn’t know how to do a roast, I know how to do this.”

“That’s so unimaginably horrifying?” Izumi manages, withdrawing his foot in a hurry. “You know, why don’t you go get Shu and let him…do that thing.”

Mika’s lips purse. “I _guess_ I could do that,” he sighs, turning away. “But then he’s gonna get _reeeal_ excited about it.” 

Izumi drinks more wine. “Just. Go.” 

Arashi gives Mika a fond pat on the ass on his way out, and tosses the toelet up into the air, catching it one-handed. “You could be _so_ rich, you know. The Academy has a stipend for wizards to help them acquire their ‘rare’ ingredients, and everyone knows what it means.”

“Pass. It’s not worth having to chop my limbs off all the time. Can you stop tossing my toe around, that’s so weird.” Izumi wipes a hand down his face. “I don’t want to be _known_ for this kind of thing. I’m not a body part factory.” 

Arashi tosses over the little bit of Izumi. “You don’t wanna be a healer even though you can heal better than any Healer alive, you don’t wanna be a body part farm when you could be the richest man alive, you don’t want to squire for the most powerful men in the realm, what _do_ you want to do?”

Izumi catches the partial toe with a grimace, and throws it back at Arashi. “Idiot. I want to be the Captain of Leo’s Kingsguard. Nothing else matters except what he wants me to do.” 

“I’m _tellin’_ you, Master, it’s pretty cool.”

Mika opens the door, pulling Shu in with him, something like evil radiating from his entire being. “So if Master numbs it, can I cut it off _then?”_

“No, fuck no, I already told you _no_.” 

“Mika, if you don’t stop your eyes from doing that thing, you’re banned from even watching,” Shu says severely, eyes narrowed. He looks more than a little green around the gills, but he stands straight. “Stop looking so creepy, you’re making me ill. Captain Arashi is good at cutting limbs off his enemies.”

“I have no idea how I got roped into any of this,” Arashi complains, flipping the dagger in his hand. “I was napping.”

Mika pouts, and Izumi scowls. “It’s a lot faster than me going to the Sandlands, isn’t it?” he demands. “Just numb it already, this’ll hurt a lot more than a damned toe. We, ah, tested it first.” 

Shu huffs, then waves a hand, and violet fire gathers around Izumi’s foot, the sensations in it instantly going dead. “Anywhere that’s colored,” he tells Arashi, then deliberately turns around. “Please do it quickly, I don’t want this any longer than it needs to be.”

Arashi offers Izumi a leather belt. “Want to bite down, darling?”

Izumi takes another, long drink of wine before setting the bottle down and grabbing the belt. “Agreeing with Shu here; please do it quickly.” 

“Y’all are all babies,” Mika complains, plopping down onto the edge of the bed to watch from the best possible view. “This stuff is my favorite.” 

Izumi stares at him for a moment, then bites down onto the leather.

Arashi looks down at his dagger, then discards it to grab his sword from its sheath. “Momentum is my friend,” he mutters under his breath, and swings, the blade cleanly slicing Izumi’s foot off at the ankle.

“That’s the worst sound I’ve ever heard,” Shu says, hand over his mouth.

“Not that bad,” Arashi says wearily, kneeling to clean the blade. “I’ve had to do this for men with injuries and gangrene before. The rotten flesh makes a _much_ worse sound. Hey, it’s already growing back, _wow_.”

It’s fairly nice that he can’t even _feel it_ , but, ah, it still is disturbing. Izumi spits out the leather, grabs his bottle of wine again, and chugs. “That,” he says, “feels bad. Let me explain. The cutting part, I didn’t feel that, but the growing back part—bad.” 

“ _Kara_ , you’re so strong,” Mika sighs, hopping off the bed to scoop up the foot. “Whoa, it’s not even like, dripping blood or anythin’.”

“Yeah, my blood doesn’t work the same way.”

“Neat. C’mon, Master, you can use this, right?” 

“Yes. But you can--you can carry it, I don’t exactly want to,” Shu mutters, averting his eyes. “Ah, here, this might help.” He frowns, and the violet fire spreads again, covering the slowly-growing stump. “That should keep it less horrible, I hope. Thank you, this is...” 

Shu hesitates, then actually lays a hand on Izumi’s hair, ruffling it gently. “This is a far less distasteful solution. I am grateful.”

Already feeling tipsy on _very_ good wine, the sudden lack of additional discomfort makes Izumi relax, and he grabs Shu’s hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “I’m not ever doing it for anyone else,” he seriously says. “Just you. Use me sparingly.”

“Don’t be kissin’ Master, or I’ll come bite you.” 

“He appreciates me!” Izumi snaps, releasing Shu’s hand. “Unlike the rest of you lot!”

“Of course I appreciate you,” Shu says, very seriously. “You’re very, very beautiful. Believe me, I almost never do these spells, they’re...repugnant to me. Come along, Mika, I have to retrieve a wayward Demon King.” He sweeps out of the room, Nightcloak billowing.

Arashi blows Mika a kiss. “Don’t get too jealous over him, get more jealous over me, _amaka_!”

“Let me cut off his foot next time,” Mika flippantly says, foot clutched to his chest as he trots after Shu.

“Arashi.” Izumi takes another, slower sip of wine. “Do you know that he’s _so_ strange?” 

Arashi sighs dreamily. “He makes my maiden heart flutter.”

“Forget it. You’re not allowed to marry my mother, just put Mika in a dress and call it a day.” 

“Serve you right if I took you up on that.” Arashi huffs, and finishes cleaning his sword, sheathing it carefully again and flopping back on the bed. “When you’re not bleeding at all you can come and lay with me.”

“Give it a minute. It’s already…almost done doing its thing. Ugh, ow, this is so weird.”

Describing it alludes him, so Izumi doesn’t bother. He just slowly drains the whole bottle of wine waiting for his foot to grow back, and after a few minutes, he dares to swing it off the stool, wiggling his toes to see if they still work—and they do, albeit with a lingering soreness, as if he’s been stepped on by Vale more than twice in a day. “There,” he mutters, slowly dragging himself over to the bed, and collapses onto it. “See, Shu was happy. This was the right choice.” 

“In my defense, I didn’t know you could replicate your body parts,” Arashi protests, and hauls Izumi close. “Or that you’d volunteer.”

“You greatly underestimate my desire to stay here with Leo,” Izumi forthrightly says, far more honest when he’s drunk. He slings his arms and legs alike around Arashi, wriggling close. “And _away_ from the Sandlands. ’s no good.” 

“How come your body lets you get drunk?” Arashi asks, blinking. “Shouldn’t it treat that as poison or whatever and metabolize it? How do you work?”

“I’m fighting so hard to stay drunk right now. I…I have to drink it really fast, and then like, keep _trying._ It used to let me get drunk,” Izumi grouses. “But now I have to _try._ Cutting my foot off probably helped. Made it have something else to focus on. Stop asking questions and pet me, I’m pretty.” 

“Are you seriously that insecure that you have to keep reminding me you’re pretty?” Arashi asks, incredulous. “Ugh, I should dump you in your prince’s room, let him deal with your whiny ass.” But in contrast to his words, he gathers Izumi close, petting his hair.

“Nooo…don’t dump me on him, I don’t want to bother him.” Izumi buries his face into Arashi’s neck, sniffling. “I don’t want him to think I’m pathetic,” he mumbles. “But I _feel_ pathetic. And ugly. And stupid. Arashi…you’re so good, I mean it.” 

“What’s wrong with you, darling?” Arashi asks, sounding more curious than anything. “You just saved someone an amputation, and your patron about a thousand Royals. Why are you so down on you? If someone else were talking like that about you, I’d run them through.”

“That’s why you’re good.” Izumi shifts, wriggling his toes again when feeling starts to return to them. That’s probably one of the _stranger_ sensations he’s ever felt, but not the worst. “I’m not looking for compliments or anything,” he mutters. “Just…the idea that I’d be better off making a career as a healer or an organ farm or something like that…makes me feel like I’m not cut out for what I want to do. It fucking sucks. Leo died because of me once already. I know, I know, he’s not really dead, but I still watched him die.”

“You watched him get _injured_ ,” Arashi says gently. “Even the Demon King can’t return someone from death, so he wasn’t dead. You know, you don’t get nearly this squeamish about _me_ getting injured.”

“It was a mortal wound, he would’ve died. I saw _dying._ ” Izumi’s voice hiccups, and he hides his face firmly against Arashi’s shoulder. “I d-don’t get this squeamish because you’d make fun of me, why do you think I healed your face so fast t-then ran away? You stress me out _all the time_.”

“Me?” Arashi stares at him, and hugs him tighter. “Why should I stress you out, I’m the sturdiest person you know! Ugh, not that I like that, it’s not exactly ladylike...”

“See, that’s what I mean!” Izumi huffs. “You…you act like you’re invincible and I’d probably throw myself off a cliff if something h-happened to you because you were _stupid_.” 

He falls silent for a second, his fingers curling against Arashi’s back. “Duke Rodan told me…that you and the wizards were captured. Tortured. Killed. Because of me. I can’t…I know it wasn’t true, but I can’t s-shake it. If you died—if you thought Mika died because of something that was my fault, and you died hating me…” Tears well up into his eyes, and Izumi doesn’t try to stop them. “Y-you know I’d kill anyone that came for him, right? I’d fucking destroy them.” 

Arashi rolls Izumi firmly onto his back, then climbs on top of him, pinning him by the shoulders. “Stop it,” he says, eyes not wavering, voice steady. “Stop it right now. You’ve been broken up about this, haven’t you? Fucking idiot, I love you so much, but stop taking the credit for everything. I hated the king _long_ before your cute ass decided to put Leo on the crown. I brought _you_ a group of noble rebels, remember? I threw my weight behind this shit long before we met, and I always knew it might end in an alley with some bastard nobleman’s boot kicking my bones to powder.”

Izumi’s breath hiccups, and he slowly nods, tears streaming freely down his face. “I remember,” he whispers, squirming to free his arms, his hands clutching at Arashi’s wrists. “But I…gods, I’m so fucking scared,” he finally admits on a ragged laugh, turning his head aside. “N…not just because of how so many people I like could die, though that’s a big part of it, I’ve never had f-friends, you know? But—the idea of even being back in the capital..I’m…I’m so scared, I k-keep telling Leo how I’m going to kill so many of those traitors, but the idea of even being near them…” 

“It won’t be that way.” Arashi sits back, squeezing Izumi’s hands, holding his eyes, his own gone dark. “I don’t think there’s any possibility of it being that way anymore, with a peaceful transition from the King to your Prince. There’s been too much blood spilled. I think it’s going to be war.”

“We’ll know soon, either way,” Izumi whispers, his fingers trembling until he squeezes Arashi’s back tightly. “Leo…he’s…he’s going to try and reach out to his father. I think it’s just going to make him sad, to hear his father turn down what he has to offer, but…it’s not like I can give him a better plan.” 

“At least then he can say truly that he tried everything. You know, he probably knows that it won’t go well,” Arashi says softly. “But if he doesn’t at least try...then he’s wholly to blame for any slaughter that happens.”

“I know. I know why he’s doing it, I just…I’m really not good at seeing him upset,” Izumi admits with a broken little laugh. “Fuck.” He drops one of Arashi’s hands to wipe at his eyes, which does nothing to help him stop crying. “Y-you know I’m usually not like this, I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Go on, be vulnerable for me, you can’t do it in front of anyone else.” Arashi pets Izumi’s hair, then brushes away his tears. “Fuck it. Have you even cried since you got free?”

Izumi shakes his head firmly, fresh, obnoxiously hot tears welling up in his eyes. “N-not really—sort of, with Leo, but then _he_ starts crying because I’m crying and it’s a f-fucking mess so I just stop.” His lower lip trembles. “When I saw you were alive. I cried then.” 

“Goddammit, I--”

Arashi crushes Izumi in a hug, pulling him so close his muscles creak, burying his own tearing eyes. “Th-there, now I can’t see you, all right? I’ll kill you if you ever die!”

Izumi sobs—as much as he’s able, when Arashi is squeezing him so tightly that it’s hard to breathe—and his fingers fist into the back of Arashi’s shirt, clinging to him. “T-that’s fair,” he whispers. “I’d kill me, too. F-fuck, I…I was so afraid, when I thought you were dead. If someone could kill _you_ …I figured we were all _really_ doomed.” 

Arashi’s laugh is wet, and his breath comes out damp against Izumi’s shoulder. “S-same,” he agrees. “When the Demon King told me they didn’t find you--the prince was so frantic, I tried to tell him I didn’t think you could die, but I wasn’t _sure_ , and you’d had so much to drink, I just couldn’t stop...thinking...and that’s not me! I hate thinking!”

Izumi sniffles, burrowing his way as deeply into Arashi’s chest as possible. “Open this up already,” he mumbles, patting Arashi’s chest with one hand. “I wanna crawl inside. S-sorry, your skin’s getting all salty.” He tries to breathe normally, fails, and his breath hiccups on a sob again. “I…I didn’t want to tell Leo this,” he admits. “I just…I told him I gave up, w-when they said he was dead, but a-after that, too, when they made _sure_ I knew you were dead, that Shu and Mika were…that they were interrogating _everyone_ …it really felt like it was all my fault. If I had just kept my mouth shut _once_ , or kept it in my pants…t-that’s why…that’s why I can’t _stop_ thinking about it now. I know it’s irrational, I know you’ve been dealing with t-this stuff before I came along, but…” 

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Arashi whispers, holding Izumi tighter. “Next time, I mean, gods forbid there’s any sort of next time, but next time _seriously_ ask them for proof--like something physical, or something we’d only say under torture, you know? And if they refuse, _they haven’t got me_. I’ll tell them--if they’re torturing me, I’ll tell them I was born to a washerwoman, it’s a lie, see? So if you hear that, it’s true that they’ve got me, but if you hear _anything_ else, they haven’t.”

“I think,” Izumi softly says, his voice muffled into Arashi’s chest, “that kind of thing only works when the people that’ve got you will answer your questions.” 

“Shut up, be cooperative,” Arashi whispers. “I’m your commander. Do as I say, you’re an awful subordinate. Let me pretend like we can prepare for things like this.”

Izumi’s head slowly shakes, trembling as he clutches at Arashi’s back. “If I have to go through that again,” he says, voice wet, “I…I’m not going to be thinking about how to be prepared. S-sorry.”

Arashi is silent for a long time, just breathing, rubbing Izumi’s back. Then, quietly, he asks, “Was it your first time?”

Izumi says nothing. Then, he stuffs his face harder against Arashi’s chest. “…I know it happens. And—and being a soldier makes it more likely, even, but…” His fingers curl uselessly into Arashi’s shirt. “It’s not that I thought it would never happen to me, like I was too good or whatever, I…it was the _way_ they did it.” His mouth twists, his jaw tensing until he feels a muscle pop. “Being a half-blood…means they don’t think you’re human at all.” 

“I’m going to tell you a nasty truth, darling. Rapists never think their victims are human. Not deep down. Or if they do, they simply don’t care.” Arashi’s smile is tight and mirthless. “There’s no nice version of it.”

“I know. I know that. I…here. I’ll show you what I mean.” 

Izumi scoots back, just enough to unbutton his shirt, kept deliberately high and fastened these days. “Ugly, right?” he murmurs, pulling it down enough to let Arashi see the large, splotchy white scar that covers the base of his neck. “I tried to explain to Leo why I wanted all of them dead by showing him this, but…I couldn’t tell him everything. It’s not something a prince should hear, you know?” Izumi bites his lip, and forces himself to drop his hand and not just keep covering up that scar. “They went into it knowing I was a half-blood, so…they had a collar made specifically for me. In their eyes…I was _so_ agreeable after they put it on, because it made it so I couldn’t fight when they kept auctioning me off like…like a fucking…” He trails off, unable to even say it. “Sorry. I know you don’t want to hear this, either.” 

“It hurts.” Arashi lays his hand over the scar, fingertips stroking it gently. “Because I can see how bad it hurts you. Just...I see you going to a dark place. Seen a lot of soldiers go there before. Just--any time you start to go there...just remember that you can’t come back. And you can’t help Leo from there.”

“…I just want to be able to kill them all without being fucking terrified of what they’ll say to me.” Izumi’s breath stutters, and he grabs at Arashi’s hand. “My ego can’t take this,” he admits with a ragged laugh. “I’ve been trying. If it’s someone else, fine, I’ll kick everyone’s ass, but if it’s me, I just…”

Arashi gives him a brief smile, and squeezes his hand. “Artan. Goran. Eris. Those are my names for you. If you ever run across three men with those names from my hometown, don’t tell me about it. Just...do what you’d do to yours. Now give me your names. We’ll trade.”

Izumi wetly blinks back at him, then sniffs, glancing away. “Karn, Hennessy, Blake, Plaskett, Rains, Wynne—and some of their guardsmen, but I don’t know their names. And…Duke Rodan. He didn’t touch me, but he…instigated the whole thing.” Izumi curls his fingers around Arashi’s. “They’re all noblemen, from the Capital. Yours?” 

“Tradesmen. From Canvera, in the West. And the reason I decided to go soldier instead of into stonemasonry with my father.” Arashu rubs his thumbs over the backs of Izumi’s hands. “A fine trade, since I’m _much_ more lethal in a fight than you. I’ll take the dozen who are trained, you take the three village idiots.”

“Fuck you,” Izumi mutters, but it has absolutely no vitriol behind it. “The fact I kicked their asses before is part of why they hate me so much. If you don’t know the face that goes with the name, just look for a notch missing out of their ears.” 

“Didn’t you leave those on half the Capital?”

“…Only high-ranking noblemen that challenged me to duels. All of which I subsequently won, thanks.” Izumi grimaces. “There were only a couple missing from Duke Rodan’s ranks, so…” 

“Probably the ones that retired from court life in shame,” Arashi suggests. “Or, I don’t know, the ones who didn’t really care about their wives or their ears.”

“I thought I was brilliant at 16, all right?” Izumi heaves a shaky sigh. “You can’t tell me you’ve never done something ridiculously dumb before.” 

“Dumb, sure. But cruel?” Arashi shrugs. “I try not to go about making enemies in the upper ranks. I can’t. I’m common-born, the only thing that keeps me sitting at those tables is my smile, and how good I am at commanding men and killing Inglings.”

“Nothing cruel about it when the husbands are the shitty ones and the wives came to me first.” Izumi’s lips purse. “But that doesn’t matter, I know. There’s a reason I’m swearing off women now, lesson learned.” 

“...I’m pretty sure the lesson was to stop touching things that aren’t yours and then blaming other people for it,” Arashi says dryly. “Either way, I don’t care enough to lecture you. Oh, but I’ve been _dying_ to ask you something, if you’re up for gossip?”

“Gossip sounds good,” Izumi grumbles, knocking his head against Arashi’s chest again. “Go on, I like when you don’t scold me.” 

“What’s the deal with that Makoto kid?”

“Oh, gods, what about him? I’ve known him since I was old enough to walk…why?” 

“Did he _always_ look at you like you’re the only thing that matters?”

Izumi pauses, thinking back. “I mean, he _was_ my first kiss.” 

“Adorable. You know he’s in love with you, right?”

“I have been attempting to…I wouldn’t say ignore it, but…” Izumi hesitates, falling silent for a moment. “He took care of me, afterwards,” he quietly says. “Even though he could’ve gotten killed. I thought Leo was dead. I…fucked up there, too. I don’t even know what to say to him anymore without coming off as weird.” 

“You mean you slept with him.” Arashi has heard enough men say they _fucked up_ without giving further explanation to know what that means. “A vulnerable young kid who’s looked up to you since you were both children, and then been locked in a tower with weird underwear.”

“Can you stop blaming me for everything?” Izumi snaps. “I didn’t plan on it. He _asked me_ —I felt like shit, I still couldn’t believe _anyone_ was alive, and he made me feel good again for five seconds. Just because I don’t know how to deal with it now doesn’t mean it was wrong at the time.” 

Arashi sighs, but there’s no arguing with Izumi when it comes to getting him to admit fault. For whatever reason, it’s one thing that Izumi is almost incapable of. “All right, all right. Just find him a nice wife, he’ll be happy as a clam and forget all about you. Unless he’s like me. Then find him a lovely young man with eyes like the sea.”

“He likes women, thankfully. Very interested in how I look like one at the right angles, let me tell you.” Annoyingly enough, he’s starting to sober up, and he reaches half-heartedly off the side of the bed, looking for the bottle of wine. “He’s a good kid. I just don’t know what to do with him except kiss him. He’s not even my type, honestly, but…” 

“Your type is pretty varied,” Arashi points out. “Besides, I don’t think he likes women as much as he lets on. Remember the night you came home? He was plenty interested in my _amaka_.”

“It’s not varied if you actually look at the details.” Izumi’s fingers finally graze the top of the wine bottle, and he grabs it, hauling it up onto the bed. “Arashi, Mika _really_ looks like a girl.” 

Arashi’s foot plants squarely in Izumi’s hip, and he shoves hard, knocking Izumi off the bed. “No more trash talk about my lover, you die next.”

Izumi yelps, falling right onto his ass, still cradling that wine like it’s his last lifeline. “That wasn’t trash talk, fuck! He’s beautiful, but he looks like a girl, think about that coming from me for two seconds.” 

“You give him a complex all the time,” Arashi accuses, stretching out. “That’s why he gives you such a hard time. Don’t pretend you don’t know that’s not a compliment for me, we just talked about how much I dislike sex with women.”

“Well, you still fuck a lot of guys that look like women, congratulations,” Izumi growls, slowly hauling himself back up onto the side of the bed. “I don’t give him a complex all the time, I don’t even know what you _mean_ by that.” 

“Being as hot as you are. You make him insecure. He thinks he’s ugly because he’s missing an eye, you know.”

“I…what do you want me to do about _that?_ ” Izumi asks, honestly at a loss. “I can’t stop looking like myself. It’s not like I tell him he’s ugly or that I’m more beautiful than he is, either. I think I’ve only ever complimented him, actually?” 

Arashi throws up his hands. “I don’t know! Figure it out, I’m sick of him glaring at you like he wants to light you on fire.”

Izumi gives into the urge to just tip more wine into his mouth. “Logically, we should have a threesome.” 

Arashi opens his mouth, then shuts it again. “I’ll ask.”

“Tell him I’ll do anything he wants. Then maybe he can feel better and stop making you kiss me less.” 

“Act really toppy,” Arashi advises. “He loves that. And offer to pay for him, it’s how he works through his trauma, for whatever reason. Just play along with me, yeah? If he says yes. And I bet he will, he thinks you’re sexy and he’s mad about it.”

“Oh, that’s easy. I’m a good top,” Izumi firmly insists, another mouthful of wine down. “You saw. He saw, too. Heh, that’s probably why he’s so mad. Would he want me to talk to him like I do Leo, or…”

“Probably,” Arashi admits. “He kept talking about it after-- _fuck me like the snake_ , I’m getting sick of hearing that.”

“Is this why you’ve been refusing to even just make out with me?” 

“That, and because Mika has started hissing like an angry kitten whenever I come back smelling of you.”

“That doesn’t work for me,” Izumi mutters, immediately sidling up to Arashi again and snuggling against him. “Time for you to reek of me and the expensive oils you only get when you’re fucking the prince.” 

“Totally sexy. Who doesn’t love being told that they reek?”

“Stop being a bitch. I smell good.” Izumi takes another swig of wine, then grabs Arashi, hauling him down and kissing it into his mouth. “Tell your kitten,” he mutters, licking his lips, “to stop being so jealous so we can play.” 

Arashi swallows, gulping down wine that cost more than his horse, He lets out a slow breath through his nose, then nods, pulling away. “I’m gonna go talk to him,” he says softly, standing up. “Because I’m not sure how much longer I can be around you without flipping you onto your back. Keep your legs closed for like nine minutes, would you? Give it a shot?”

“If it takes you nine minutes to convince him, you’re not doing it right,” Izumi flippantly says, flopping over onto his stomach. “But fine, I’ll be sweet and wait for you, Milady.” 

“Give me time to walk there and back, bastard!”

Though he doesn’t walk, he runs, because the lure of Mika is strong. He knocks on the door of the room they share, sing-songing, “Mika _daaaarliiiiing_ , are you here?”

Mika slowly cracks the door open, blinking up at Arashi as he leans around it. Done with all of his foot-retrieving, he’s naked, contently so, save for a blanket lazily draped over his shoulders. “Arashi? Eh…are you done with the snake? Did his foot grow back all the way?”

“Completely, and rather quickly.” Arashi’s mouth curves into a fond, genuine smile. “Naked again, _amaka_? Waiting for me, or just comfy?”

“Boooth.” Mika leans up onto his tiptoes as he lets the door open a bit more, and flops his arms around Arashi’s neck, snuggling up against him. “Mmn. Warm. ’s good when your shirt is open, you look good. Smell like snake, though, boo.” 

For a moment, Arashi wants to tell Izumi to go fuck himself--Mika is _his_ , he’s fought _hard_ to get to this point, over years and years of stupid waiting and suffering and fear, and having his arms around Mika now is the best possible reward for all of that. He nuzzles into Mika’s warm neck, hands softly resting at the small of his back. “You smell good, too. Like you. Mm, you’ve got such a lovely smell, you know? I’ve loved you so long...”

Mika’s eyes lid, pleased, and he flops forward against Arashi further, nuzzling right into his neck. “ _Kara…_ mm, you should come play with me,” he murmurs, idly leaning up to snake his tongue right into the inside of Arashi’s ear. “I wanna talk about how much I love you, too. And rub on you until you don’t smell like snake.” 

“Mm...about that, darling...” Arashi shudders, eyes rolling back as he tries to remember what he came here to talk about. “He likes you, you know, you should give him more credit...”

“Uh huh.” Mika’s tongue drags down along the curve of Arashi’s ear, idly toying withhis earrings. “Dunno what that means.” 

Arashi whimpers, grabbing at Mika’s ass. “It m-means...means that you’re not--ahh, he wants you, you know, he thinks you’re _very_ beautiful, told me all about it.”

Mika’s eyes narrow suspiciously, and he pauses, releasing Arashi’s ear to tilt his head, frowning. “The snake,” he says, “thinks I’m beautiful. Since when?” 

“Since the night he took Leo over the table. And...heh. I might have mentioned how insatiable you are, and he’s just as bad...” _Please bite, please give my penis a rest._

“Mmm.” Mika’s head cocks a little further, his hair falling over his golden eye. “ _Kara…_ are you…” His lips twitch. “Are you sellin’ me?”

“Eh? I didn’t ask for any--”

Arashi catches himself, a little too late to be graceful about it, remembering far too late that Mika loves this sort of play. “I mean...yes. He offered me, ah, a few bottles of very nice wine for a little playtime with you, and I just _couldn’t_ say no, you know how much I love wine!”

Arashi is cute, and that makes up for the slip. It’s easily forgotten, anyway, when he promptly plays along. “Ehh…must’ve been some really good wine, then,” Mika murmurs, leaning up to nip at Arashi’s ear again. “If y’sold me, then deliver me properly, yeah?” 

“Now, _that_ , I can do.”

Arashi scoops Mika up, tossing him over his shoulder, feeling himself twitch in his breeches at the play for the first time in a while. His body has always been more settled, more willing to wait until he rouses it by touch, but damed if some of the things Mika does don’t make him break that pattern. 

It’s not a long walk, and Arashi’s legs are long and swift, bearing him back down the hallway. Then he opens the door back to the room, beaming. “Izumi, darling, I brought you a--well, I’d say it’s a gift, but you’re paying me for it, aren’t you?”

Izumi, dangling a bottle of wine off the side of the bed, promptly sets it down. He had half-expected this to not work at _all_ —Mika’s a fickle sort, and not the kind he really understands—but…here he is, dangling over Arashi’s shoulder. “With, ah. With every bottle of fine wine I had left to my name,” he quickly settles upon, hoping that’s the right answer. Judging by the way Mika’s toes curl, it is. 

_Did you two plot this out?_ Mika almost asks, but that would ruin the fun, besides. Like this, Izumi is far less of a threat. He squirms on Arashi’s shoulder, kicking his feet uselessly. “Put me down,” he huffs. “Or I’m gonna lick your ear again.” 

“Yeah, toss him down over here,” Izumi says with a laugh, scooting over on the bed. “I’ve been bored waiting for you two, anyway.” 

_Nice_ , Arashi mouths to Izumi, along with a grateful smile. He dumps Mika on his back on the bed, leaning down to say softly, “You’ll be good for the fine gentleman, won’t you? You wouldn’t want to embarrass me?” It’s not as though he and Mika haven’t played this sort of game before, though usually it’s _him_ that Mika wants to have as a ‘fine gentleman.’

Mika’s face colors, and he huddles up underneath his blanket, torn between squirming visibly and being a bit more shy about it. He shivers all the same, refusing to look at Izumi until it’s Izumi’s hand that makes him, slender fingers grabbing his chin. 

“Look at you, you’re so pretty,” Izumi murmurs, licking his lips as he spares a quick glance towards Arashi, making sure he’s watching. His other hand lifts, pushing Mika’s hair out of his face. “I paid good money for you, so let me see all of you.” 

Mika trembles visibly, holding Izumi’s gaze for a moment before his gaze diverts, flicking down when his eyes unfocus on their own accord. “I…I can’t look at you for too long, Milord. It hurts.” 

“That’s all right…mmn, come here,” Izumi sighs, scooting closer, tipping Mika’s chin up again. “Just shut your eyes, I don’t mind.” 

So help him, kissing someone so soft and beautiful _is_ nice. Maybe Arashi’s onto something thinking he prefers pretty boys like this, because grabbing Mika and kissing him deeply makes his pulse thud fast and hard immediately, especially when he feels Arashi’s gaze on them.

Arashi sucks in a long breath, eyes gone dark with lust. This is nothing like watching Izumi’s school friend Makoto slip his cock between Mika’s lovely plush lips. This is _Izumi_ , who’s as good at the words and the motions as anyone Arashi knows, who can undo even him with a glance. “That’s a good boy,” he murmurs, sitting on the edge of the bed, running a finger down Mika’s neck, twining it in his hair. “Ah, you two look so...mm, right, but I don’t think I took all that money just for a kiss, do you, sweetheart?”

He grabs the edges of the blanket, pulling it off of Mika’s shoulders, leaving him bare. Then he presses a kiss to Mika’s shoulder, and murmurs, “I’m going to stoke the fire, so we can see all of that lovely body.” Then he moves, leaving the bed to throw an extra log on the fire, grabbing the bellows to fan the flames.

Mika squeaks when he’s suddenly bare, hastily shifting back to curl himself up for warmth until the fire starts to actually heat the room further. Izumi snorts, grabbing Mika’s hands, pulling him forward and forcing him to uncurl immediately. “None of that, you’re too lovely. Here, just—“

Izumi flips him deftly, pressing Mika facedown onto the bed, hiking up those lean hips and letting his cock press into the curve of his ass, only the fabric of his breeches still in the way. “He has such a way of moving,” Izumi murmurs, leaning forward, brushing Mika’s hair off of his back to drag his fingers down his spine instead, watching him arch and squirm with a little gasp. “You’re a dancer, aren’t you? Maybe I should’ve paid more to see that.” 

Mika swallows hard, burying his face down into the sheets. Embarrassingly enough, his own cock is far harder than he expected it to be—Izumi is beautiful, Izumi scares him, Izumi pisses him off, but… “I…”

“It’s all right, you don’t have to talk.” Izumi plants a long, sucking kiss to the back of Mika’s neck. “Arashi told me how much you like to hear _me_ talk. What were some of your favorites, I wonder…” 

“Make him dance later,” Arashi suggests, leaning back on the bed, eyebrow raised. “When you’re dripping out of his hole. Ah, I forgot to ask, Milord--do you prefer him as a boy tonight, or as a girl? My Mika is quite talented at both disciplines, you know, and ways of speaking.”

Arashi leans forward, sliding a hand under Mika, toying with a dusky nipple, rolling it between his fingers, then tugging hard. “Do you want to give him some samplings of your skills, my sweet?”

The noise that leaves Mika’s throat is high and breathless, and he whimpers, grabbing helplessly for Arashi’s hand. “I…ah…”

“You can be a pretty boy tonight, it’s fine,” Izumi reassures him, his fingers sliding up through Mika’s hair to fist in close to his scalp, pulling his head back. “You’re so red already—lucky me, your hair’s long enough to make for some lovely reins.”

The way Mika shudders at that is tell-tale, and Izumi snorts, amused. “He’s so _easy_ ,” he says, giving Mika’s ass a light swat, releasing his hair and watching how he melts, shivering, squirming back against Izumi’s cock with an arch of his back. “Grab the oil, would you? I want to see how easy it is to make such a pretty bitch loose himself.” 

Mika dissolves. He buries his face back down into the sheets, panting shallowly as his body decides it’s already time to come at least once. He whimpers, rubbing his flushed face down, tears already pricking at his eyes. “S…sorry, I—“ 

Izumi’s mouth goes dry. “…Guess you really did like the lines I pulled on Leo, huh,” he murmurs, reaching down to unlace his breeches. “Don’t worry, I have a lot of them.” 

“Perfect,” Arashi breathes. They’re both so gorgeous to watch--Izumi looks damned dashing when he’s in control, and Arashi has thought many times that it’s a crying shame his tastes don’t run that way. He can appreciate it now, watching Izumi boss Mika around, yanking and shoving at him, moving him where he wants him. And Mika--gods, Arashi will never get enough of looking at Mika, the way he tenses and shudders, the way he shivers and whines, the way he pushes back already, his body contorting and convulsing in pleasure. A part of him still, _always_ , wants to dive in and touch, running his hands over that delectable, supple skin...

But this isn’t really about him. This is about letting Mika have someone who can actually go as many rounds as he can for once, someone who’ll actually treat him exactly the way he (on some level) needs to be treated. “He’s got a nice cock, this fancy gentleman,” he murmurs instead, eyes dragging down Izumi’s body, then back up again. “You’ll have to show him how grateful you are, don’t you think? Someone who’s paid all that money doesn’t care if you’ve just come, he wants you to be a good plaything.”

“I’ll be good, I’ll be good,” Mika groans, letting himself be flipped over again, flopping onto his back. His thighs splay automatically, his cock already twitching again against his stomach, no matter the mess on his thighs. “I’ll…g-gods, I…” 

“Look at this mess you’ve made,” Izumi murmurs, dragging his fingers up through it, and immediately shoves those fingers past Mika’s lips, dragging them over his tongue. Mika swallows noisily, panting, his eyes lidded as he sucks on Izumi’s fingers without thinking. “Luckily, it seems like you want to be a mess. Mmnn, let’s see…”

Delving underneath a pillow produces results, and Izumi uncorks the bottle of oil with his teeth, tossing it aside. He pulls his hand away from Mika’s mouth, pouring a generous amount of oil over his fingers before sliding a pair of them home, groaning breathlessly at the way that Mika immediately clenches down, squirming down onto his hand. “That’s worth the money,” he breathes, his eyes fluttering, tongue flicking out to wet his lower lip. “Arashi…come here, feel how hot he is inside.” 

Arashi’s hand twitches, but he retracts it, letting it drop to his side with a little flutter. “I’ve felt that hole before, Lord Izumi. It’s quite nice, but tonight it’s for you, don’t you think?”

Except his self-control is never that good. He turns to the side, grabbing what’s left of his beautiful bottle of wine, draining it in a few gulps. “You get on in there, sir. I’ll slip a finger in once you’ve got him whining on your lovely cock. Then we can really open him up, don’t you think?”

Mika whimpers, his eyes rolling back at the thought alone when his cock gives an over-eager twitch against his stomach, dripping over already sweat-slick skin. 

“He _does_ seem to like that idea,” Izumi murmurs, his fingers pressing in long and deep, slowly curling them until Mika exhales a long, breathless whine, trembling all the way down to his toes. “It almost seems like a shame to stop playing with you like this…but, heh, I guess I _did_ buy you for the whole night, didn’t I?” 

Izumi drags his hand out, wiping it on the bed before he unravels his laces in short order. The head of his cock rubs against that tight hole for only a moment before he hauls one of Mika’s legs over his shoulder, too-riled to wait any longer before he shoves in, hard and deep. 

The noise Mika makes gets caught up in his throat, a breathless, ragged sob as he arches underneath Izumi, grabbing for him with long, sharp fingers, and Izumi exhales a rasping laugh, grabbing for Mika’s hands to shove them up and over his head. “You don’t need to grab me to get what you want,” he breathes, pulling back just to shove in deeply again, holding Mika down and letting the slap of their hips together speak for itself. His own eyes flutter, a ragged grunt leaving his lips. “I know—what a mare in heat needs.”

“Fuck,” Mika whimpers, his thighs trembling as he gets his other leg around Izumi’s waist, his body already clenching too-tight, little spasms already threatening to send him jumping over the edge again at any moment. _That’s_ not fair. He shudders, sagging down. 

“There we go, that’s a good boy,” Izumi mutters, his gaze briefly flicking up, catching Arashi’s. “Hard to believe you’d sell him,” he breathes, leaning back to let Arashi get a better view. “But look at him, he fucking loves it.” 

“I can’t tell if he’s just a slut for any big cock,” Arashi muses, eyes alight, scooting close, “or if you’re just breeding him perfectly. Nice and deep, that’s how you deal with a mare in heat, the _only_ way. Got to seed them right--but you know all about that, don’t you? You’ve got all those big beautiful horses up North, you must know how to get a mare on the first try...”

He shifts forward, grabbing at Mika’s chest again, trailing his hands over his nipples, pinching and rubbing. “Look at this good boy, he’s being good for you, isn’t he? You should--reward him, the more seed you put in him, the better he’ll behave, isn’t that right, Mika?”

Mika nods immediately, his fingers curling into his own palms, face flushed hot. “I w…wanna be good,” he whimpers, his chest arching helplessly underneath Arashi’s fingers. “I—“

“Every time you pull on his nipples like that, he squeezes down _so_ tight,” Izumi groans, letting his weight sink into the hand holding Mika’s wrists down to hold him firmly in place when he grinds in, hard and deliberate. “Like he really w-wants me to fill him up—“ 

Another, hard thrust, and Izumi lets that tension pour out of his body in a long, aching wave, his head tipping forward as he pants raggedly with every pulse of his cock. “There,” he hisses through his teeth, his eyes briefly shutting. “Fuck, you’re gonna be so full soon.” His fingers paw down over Mika’s stomach, pressing down slowly. “I don’t quit, you know—have to make _sure_ you’re bred.” 

Mika jerks with a whimper, turning his head to the side to bury his flaming face into his own arm as his cock twitches, dripping messily over his stomach, and Izumi tilts his head back, giving Arashi an amused look. “Yeah. You were right, good purchase. He’s almost as easy as I am.” 

“This is the best idea you’ve ever had,” Arashi says frankly, watching with appreciation as Izumi fills his lover, watching both of them tense and writhe. It’s something he’s never really been able to explain to anyone’s satisfaction, much less his own, but being with them this way, watching them, being a part of it but without his cock in the picture, feels almost completely as satisfying as being one of the star players. 

He strokes Mika’s face tenderly. “You’re doing so well, _amaka_ , you’re making him so happy, making _me_ so happy--are you nice and full? If I know you well, even that much isn’t enough--and he comes so much, let me feel your belly to see if he bred you right.” He grabs Izumi’s hand, sliding it down with his own, pressing down on Mika’s belly.

Mika’s trembling lips part, a whine leaving his throat as he squirms. “D…don’t—“ 

“Too much?” Izumi says, almost sympathetically, though his hand pressing down as he thrusts forward with a groan says otherwise. “Ahh…fuck, you’re a mess in here,” he mutters, his eyes glittering. “But I don’t think it took, so I’ll do it again, just to make sure. D’you like seeing him like this, Arashi? Or would you prefer I have him some other way?” 

“Hands and knees,” Arashi says, eyes suddenly alight. “He usually hates that, but-- _amaka_ , what if I’m in front of you, your back is so beautiful, let me see it arching, and you can look into my eyes the whole time, how’s that?”

Hesitation flickers across Mika’s face, but Izumi doesn’t wait for him to decide—he just moves, pulling out while he flips Mika over. “Remember, you liked it when I said these could be my reins,” Izumi breathes, fisting a hand up through Mika’s hair to pull his head back. His cock, already hard, nudges against Mika’s hole, and presses in again, a low groan leaving his throat as he slides in deep. “Mmn…that’s good, right?” 

Mika’s body responds before his mind does, and for that, he’s grateful. Izumi feels _good_ inside of him, already hard and hot and filling him, and it’s hard to be nervous about being taken this way when it already feels good, and Arashi… “’s good,” he gasps out, vaguely remembering words, his back arching on its own accord when Izumi shoves in, yanking on his hair as he does. His hands knead into the bedsheets, eyes lidded, glazed when he gives into the urge to grind back, his knees setting themselves further apart. 

“Look, he really must be in heat,” Izumi murmurs, breath hitching as he slides in deep and stays there for a moment, petting a hand down Mika’s trembling, arched back. 

“I’d thought you knew the right way to breed a mare,” Arashi murmurs, sliding down the bed. He grips Mika’s face gently, cupping his chin, thumbing over his plush, inviting lower lip. “You’ve never seen a mare on her back for a stallion, have you? No, that’s only for pretty whores. For someone like this...”

He captures Mika’s mouth in a long, filthy kiss, sucking on his lower lip, flicking his tongue over it.

Mika whimpers against Arashi’s mouth, his voice high and breathy as he tries to lurch forward for more of those kisses, but Izumi isn’t having it. His scalp burns when his head is yanked back, and he gasps into the air, his eyes rolling back when Izumi thrusts so perfectly into him that his entire body tenses and shudders, his mouth falling slack.

“You’re so _easy_ ,” Izumi taunts, bending over him from behind, twisting Mika’s hair around his hand, pulling on it when he grinds in deep, repeatedly hitting that little spot deep inside that keeps making Mika tighten up and rut back helplessly. “Maybe—I should’ve paid a bit more, t-then I could’ve kept you for another day, just to make _sure_ you were bred—“

He’s cut off with a low, rasping curse when Mika clenches down tightly around him, coming again with a weak, breathy whimper. “T-too much, too much,” Mika sobs, his nails clawing into the bed, though nothing about his body language says _stop_. “P-please, I can’t—“

“Too bad, I’m still going, and I paid for you,” Izumi grunts, shoving Mika down with a hand between his shoulder blades. Mika sags with a groan, trembling and breathing hard, his cheeks flushed hot. “Ever gotten him to say that before, Arashi?” he teases, idly reaching under Mika to tweak one of his nipples. “He’s _awfully_ good when he’s already gotten off…what? Three times?” Mika shudders again. “Maybe four?”

“Ahh, if you keep playing with those...they’re going to get _very_ sore. Or maybe they already are?” 

Arashi pets Mika’s hair, hands tangled in it, and finally starts easing his breeches laces open. “If it’s really too much,” he reasons, “he won’t want any more. He’ll be too full and sore, don’t you think?”

He pulls out his cock, achingly hard and dripping, just centimeters from Mika’s face. “What do you say, darling? Want me to put it away, is it too much?”

Izumi eases up on the hold on Mika’s hair, just enough to see Mika hungrily lurch forward, his tongue flicking out to wet his lower lip. “Doesn’t look like it’s too much now,” Izumi murmurs, loosening his hold a bit more, petting his hand down Mika’s back instead. 

Mika struggles to reach up a trembling hand, reaching for Arashi’s cock, but Izumi gives his ass a sharp slap, making him stop with a squeak. “You don’t need your hands to take care of him. Why don’t you ask him for it, mare?” 

Mika’s chest heaves, the idea of _words_ when he’s full of Izumi’s cock and could have Arashi’s potentially in his mouth making his mind trip over itself. “ _K…kara…”_ He swallows hard, licking at his lips. “P-please, I…I wanna taste it, fuck my mouth, please…” 

Arashi’s breath hitches, and he leans forward, rising up onto his knees, cock in hand to feed it into Mika’s mouth, pushing past his lips without asking any kind of permission. The wet heat is familiar, but not overly-so, and he groans, eyes fluttering in pleasure. “Never...really get to do this,” he pants, rutting in shallow thrusts against Mika’s lovely face, watching his length disappear inside over and over and over, a little faster each time no matter how he tries to control himself. “He loves it inside him so much, can never--wait, never wants me to, to finish this way, but you’re so _pretty_ like this...now you’ve got a nice big stallion inside you that isn’t tiring, isn’t that nice, _amaka_? Suck it, go on, show me how you love the taste.”

Watching Arashi lose control for once is an _experience._ Izumi watches, licking at his own lips as he watches how Mika swallows him down, licking and sucking eagerly, the obscene, wet noises that leave his throat making his own cock drip and throb where it’s buried in Mika’s ass. “You’re good at that, huh?” he murmurs, his fingers sliding back to the task of finding an already-abused nipple and slowly pulling it when he grinds forward, long and hard. Mika’s eyes roll back, a groan stuck in his throat, and Izumi hears the way that he frantically breathes in through his nose. 

Uninterested in being kind—Mika doesn’t want him to be, besides, that’s the point—Izumi exhales a grunt as he thrusts in hard, shoving Mika forward, until his nose buries against Arashi’s stomach, that hard cock stuffed completely down his throat. Mika’s breathy noises are a bit more frantic now, but he doesn’t struggle to get away, and Izumi decides that’s permission to keep fucking him hard. “You better be good,” he pants against Mika’s hair as he leans forward, getting more leverage to shove in, “and swallow all of him up when he comes.” 

“I genuinely cannot believe both of you are still going,” Arashi groans, then laughs, leaning back on his hands, hips thrusting forward hard, bumping at the back of Mika’s throat with every thrust, a small impact that makes him pant shallowly. “This--this is good, wear each other out, I’ll take the choice bits. Ah, wait, I mean, are you getting your money’s worth, Lord Izumi? Is, ah, his hole still sweet for you? Tighten up for him, love, make sure he’s getting what he paid for, you know how I love good wine.”

Mika’s eyes roll back, and he swallows down hard with every thrust of Arashi’s cock down his throat. His eyes water, spilling hot tears down his aching, ruddy cheeks, and he trembles as he obediently tries to squeeze down around Izumi’s cock, even if he’s fairly certain the muscles in his body are starting to give up.

“You’ve trained him so well,” Izumi gasps, his fingers biting into Mika’s hips when he thrusts forward harder, unable to help himself when Mika trembles around him like that. “D-don’t worry, I’ll come back every time you’re in heat like this, it doesn’t matter the price—“

Mika shudders underneath him, twitchy and shivery and so, so, pliant, and Izumi spills inside a second time, grabbing at Mika’s hips to pull him back onto his cock and keep him there. He pants raggedly, feeling the sweat drip down from his hairline and down his back, and he wipes a hand across the back of his eyes. “That’s a good boy, taking all of that in you,” he breathes, rubbing a hand down Mika’s spine. “Just…ah…make sure you take good care of Arashi, he can use your mouth for as long as he likes.” 

“F-fine words,” Arashi says breathlessly, grabbing Mika’s hair to hold him in place, rutting helplessly against his lips. “But I, ha, I don’t think I’m lasting much--”

He slides forward at an exact perfect angle, and the head of his cock slips into Mika’s throat. The sudden tightening sensation is too much, and he gasps, crying out as he jerks, swearing to three different gods by the time he finishes spilling into Mika’s mouth. “Sorry, sorry, I--wait, no I’m not sorry, you’re so good,” he gasps, remembering belatedly amid the swirl of sensations that he doesn’t need to apologize for coming somewhere besides inside Mika. “You’re--worth the coin, eh, Lord Izumi? Gods, _amaka_ \--”

Mika swallows noisily, lurching forward a bit more to make _sure_ Arashi stays down his throat for every drop. When he finally starts to draw back, his lips are slick and red, and he pulls off with a grateful, full inhale of breath. “ _Kara,_ ” he dazedly murmurs, “y’taste so good…” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever see you get off that fast,” Izumi laughs, giving Mika’s ass a gentle pinch, which makes him squeak and squirm. “Definitely worth the price tag. Here, pretty boy, wriggle back on me, I’m already almost hard again.”

“A…already?” Mika groans, sagging forward. “At least…at least let me breathe for a second, I…”

Izumi pouts, fixing an accusing stare on Arashi. “You said he was as bad as me. False advertising, where’s my refund?” 

“As far as I’m concerned you’re both ridiculous,” Arashi groans, flopping uselessly to the side. But the act must go on, he supposes, until they’re both satisfied--and he can’t wait to see Mika actually worn out for once, anyway. He lifts a hand, cupping Mika’s cheek. “Go on, darling, show him he’s getting his money’s worth. I don’t ever want to hear that you’re insatiable again after this...”

Mika huffs and flops down, burying his face into the bed. “I give up.”

“Not fair,” Izumi grouses, leaning forward to nuzzle at the back of Mika’s neck. “Here, roll this way, I’m just gonna keep it in you, if you don’t mind.” 

He flops sideways, pulling Mika back against him to spoon. Mika settles back, pleased with this, and Izumi crooks a finger towards Arashi. “Come here. Let me kiss you while I probably get off again in your pretty lover.”

“I ain’t doin’ any work,” Mika mutters contently, his eyes lidding. 

“See, this is why I have to kill Inglings to get fine wine,” Arashi says affectionately, mussing Mika’s hair before crawling over to Izumi. “At least they follow through when they say they’ll kill you.”

He slides his tongue into Izumi’s mouth, then curls up in front of Mika, throwing a leg and an arm over both of them. “Just keep it in him all night, let’s see how full his belly is when we wake up. Gods, I love you both.”

Mika mumbles a low, pleased sound at that, too sated to growl or complain or be jealous, and his face buries down into Arashi’s chest with a soft sigh. 

“He’ll kick me out at some point, trust me,” Izumi says with a breathless little laugh, leaning over Mika to kiss Arashi back deeply. “Thank you,” he adds softly. _In another life, I’d like to find myself here._

_Why can’t I have both of you, forever, again?_ Arashi’s smile is wistful, and he tugs them both close. “As long as you’re both here when I wake up, I’ll be happy.”

 

~

 

Leaving for the Capital is bound to be treacherous, and Izumi knows it’ll be even worse if he continues to be as recognizable as he is.

So—

Unhappily, Izumi agrees to dye his hair. 

Inconveniently, no dye seems to stick to it. 

“Not even henna?” Mika exasperatedly says, the dye stuck to the skin of his fingers, but still dripping from Izumi’s damp hair after the fourth attempt of the day. “Damn. That stuff dyes _everythin’._ Maaaaster, that didn’t work either, try a glamour!”

“Having anyone’s signature on me is a bad idea,” Izumi wearily points out, pushing the wet curls of his bangs out of his face, watching the color literally roll off of it and drip into the towels in his lap. At least his hair is already _much_ longer, content to keep growing under his continued encouragement. “I’ll just…wrap it all up, I guess. All the time.” 

“Travel as a woman.”

Of course it’s Natsume that says that, dressed as a perfect, prim noblewoman in the doorway of the common room that overlooks the sea, his hair done up in heavy curls that tumble partially down his back. Izumi stares unhelpfully for a moment, eyes drawn down to his _impossibly_ tiny waist in that tight corset, and Natsume scowls, arms folded over his chest (which is padded, just a little). “Stop _looking_ at me like that, you disgraceful _rake._ If you travel as a woman, better, his wife, no one will question the two of you.” 

“I mean, he’s prolly right,” Mika says, shrugging. “Ain’t no one expecting a man and his lady.” 

“The prince looks like a girl as much as I do,” Izumi protests. 

“Ehhh, debatable…” 

“Shut up. Why do I have to—“

“Because if he’s the prince, then he’s had every man’s role and part beaten into him from day one,” Natsume interrupts, rolling his eyes. “And _you_ , heir from the _North_ , have already had experience as a woman more than once, am I wrong?”

Mika’s eyebrows raise, and Izumi’s mouth falls open. “Who told you?” he flatly demands. “How could you know otherwise, you little—“

“No one has to tell me anything,” Natsume flippantly says, golden eyes glittering. “I just _know_.”

“…N…Natsume, aren’t your powers all sealed up ’n stuff, though?” 

Natsume’s lips purse. “Fine. I sort of guessed, after watching you. But I was _right_ , wasn’t I? I’m always right. Besides,” he says, abruptly hiking up his skirts to reveal the veritable arsenal underneath, a blade seemingly on each layer of his petticoat _and_ strapped to his thighs. “This is just the _extra_ artillery. If your aim is to protect the prince, well, there’s not a better way to hide a ton of weapons on the _road…”_

“N-Natsume, how long have you been hiding all of those?” Tsumugi asks, horrified. He moves around the room, tidying up discarded bottles of dye, discarded scarves used to wrap hair, anything that the assorted nobles have decided against using. His arms are full, and more than once he drops something, then has to reach down and pick it up, usually dropping more things. “It’s very clever, to hide all of those, but won’t it be dangerous? What if you move the wrong way and prick yourself?”

“I think it’s wonderful!” Leo says enthusiastically. “I’ll wrap up my hair like I did in the Sandlands, and maybe I’ll find a wig! Ooh, wait, can we pretend to be commoners? Like, _really_ poor ones?”

“You’re going to be traveling with Lord Izumi’s prize horse, aren’t you, Highness?” Tsumugi asks, dropping a bottle of dye on his foot, turning it brown. “Ah, oops. Surely no commoner would have such a creature?”

“Better dye him,” Mika says sagely. “He looks real recognizable, too.” 

“You’re not dyeing my horse!”

“Better than keepin’ him here, even _kara_ doesn’t like dealin’ with him.”

“You _useless_ trash, I’ve kept these on me since I’ve gotten here!” Natsume snaps, reaching back and ripping out another dagger from the back of his corset. “I’ll stab you with this one right here if you don’t stop _dropping things!”_

Tsumugi freezes mid-action, and another bottle tumbles to the ground, spinning slowly, then rolling across the room. “Ah...sorry, Natsume, I’ll just pick that up.”

Leo whistles through his teeth. “Do you two go around other people ever? Do they believe you’re married?”

“They’re very convincing,” Arashi says with a laugh. “Everyone thinks she married him for his money.”

“They do?” Tsumugi asks, scandalized.

“They act like every other married couple I’ve seen,” Izumi dryly says. 

“Die, die you _useless_ man!” Natsume hisses, stalking after him to whack Tsumugi across the back. “What other reason would someone marry you?! Ugh, and to think I _ever_ thought you were _cool_ —“

“Maybe a bit more violent, but close enough.” Izumi twists around, peering at Leo, unable to stop himself from teasing, “Sure you’re all right with your wife being taller than you?”

“You’re over thirty! You gross pervert! You weak excuse of a wizard! What good are you, Lord Rei doesn’t even have to hide your powers because they’re so _weak_ —“

Mika idly picks up the box of dyeing supplies and trots after Tsumugi. “You can just…kinda put everythin’ in here, I’ll clean up the rest…” _Or else Natsume really might stab you._

“Ah, thank you, Mika. Oh, ow, by the way! Please don’t hit me quite so much, Natsume!”

Leo slides his arms around Izumi’s waist from behind. “Promise me we’ll never get like that. Even if you want me for my money and my shiny crown.”

“Don’t say _ow_ so far after the fact, it makes it _obvious_ that you feel _nothing_ , you gross, _weak—“_

“We’ll never get like that,” Izumi says as he leans back into Leo’s hold, eyebrows raised. “Know why? Because I _also_ want you for your cock.”

“Anyway!” Natsume huffs, whirling around in a twirl of his skirts. He reaches back, sheathing his dagger gods know where, and glowers at Izumi and Leo. “By bringing you here, I _know_ Lord Rei has put you in my capable hands.” 

“Ah…” 

“Almost all of my clothing was made by Lord Shu himself,” Natsume says proudly. “You’ll be _honored_ to even touch it.”

“A lot of it was made by Tsumugi,” Mika whispers as he plops back down. “But Shu helped teach him, soo…” 

Natsume glares. “ _Mika._ ”

“I hate the way he says my name,” Mika complains, covering his ears. 

“I’m really not very good at sewing,” Tsumugi frets, “but I’m certain His Excellency Shu would be able to make you something very beautiful.”

“No, no, make him a simple peasant gown!” Leo insists. “We’re going to be peasants, right?”

“Your Highness, the horse--”

“Oh, right! Wahahaha!”

“The last time you tried to be a peasant, you still wouldn’t stop wearing your fancy earrings,” Izumi reminds him, turning in Leo’s arms to grab him by the shoulders and give him a firm shake. “And Vale _is_ coming with us. We aren’t peasants. We’re too pretty to be peasants, besides.” 

“You gotta dye him,” Mika reminds him. “Seriously.” 

Izumi’s lips purse. “…I’m going to dye him something sexy, like black,” he grumbles. “It’ll wash out, right?” 

Mika shrugs. “I mean, eventually…” 

“I hate every part of this,” Izumi mutters. “Whatever, fine. Thank the gods Vale likes you, Milord.” 

“Everyone likes me. I’m exciting, wahaha!” 

Arashi giggles, waving a hand, delighted by the spectacle. “Not to worry, darling Izumi. Captain Morisawa dyes his horse’s mane in a few different ways depending on the time of year, I know he has some good non-toxic dye.”

“If we’re not peasants, what are we?” Leo complains. “What’s easy to pretend to be but fun to dress up as?”

“Wealthy merchants on business.” 

Tsukasa nods politely to the rest of the room as he enters, sweeps a bow towards Leo, and promptly takes a seat. “My lady was kind enough to come up with papers for both of you, so it won’t be an issue for you to enter the Capital,” he says. “It’ll be easy for you to travel there if you pretend to be a merchant and his wife, seeking out new business contracts. So,” he begins firmly, “you’ll need to be convincing. That goes for both of you. Your Highness, you’ll need to stay composed, and Lord Izumi, you’ll…need to watch your mouth.”

“Fuck you.”

“See, like that? That doesn’t work. Wealthy merchant ladies are typically well-mannered, demure—“

“I know what ladies are like, thanks. Worry more about the prince.”

“I’m a great merchant!” Leo insists, and immediately sweeps into a low bow, forehead almost touching the ground. “Good evening, m’lords, my fine, fine lords, can your humble servant persuade you to purchase some delightful wares? Straight from High Harbor, only the finest for you lords, carried ‘em here on my wife’s back, I did!”

Tsumugi hastens to set down the box of empty bottles so he can applaud.

Arashi stifles a laugh, and instead nods. “Very good, Your Highness. Ah, perhaps less on the, um, accent? If that’s...what you were doing?”

Natsume stares at Leo, arms folding. “If my husband made me carry anything on _my_ back—“

Tsukasa winces a little, but applauds all the same. “Very good, very good, ah, but perhaps Lady—er, Lord, whatever, Natsume is right…perhaps less of the ‘carried on your wife’s back’ bit, you’re going to be married to a fine lady…” 

“What kinda accent was that, anyway?” Mika butts in, unimpressed as he flops down onto the floor, cheek resting against Arashi’s thigh. “All of y’all from the capital all sound the same…” 

Izumi snorts, giving Leo a nudge with his foot. “Get up, Milord. You’re convincing enough.”

“Let’s see you curtsy,” Mika snidely tosses over. 

“Not without a skirt, whelp.” 

Leo straightens, obviously grumpy. “If I can’t use an accent, I’m not doing it,” he declares. “I’d rather just ride in as myself and damned to the consequences.”

“How about a Sandlands accent, Highness?” Tsumugi suggests.

“Ah, good idea! You lived there for a few months, didn’t you?” Arashi asks. 

Leo frowns, then tries again. “Howdy, y’all Lords ‘n Ladies! Mightn’t y’all be wantin’ some of these here fancy goods ‘n stuff? It’s right purdy!”

Mika bursts out laughing immediately. 

“Please stop criticizing his accents,” Izumi hisses. “It’s not safe to head to the capital as ourselves. Milord, both of them are fine, just—“

Mika shakes his head frantically, still laughing. “Noooo, not the Sandlands one—“

“Can you control him for five seconds?” Izumi growls at Arashi. 

“Maybe try a Northern one,” Mika giggles, listing to the side. “Jus’ curse every other word ’n talk like you’re a hick—“

“I’m going to rip your tongue out.” 

Leo shakes his head, annoyed. “Can’t do Northern. Your mom’s leading a faction to try and destroy the Capital, right? So everyone from the North will be suspect. I mean...Darn near evry’one from th’North’ll be in a right fancy poodle of a trouble!”

Arashi bites his cheek so hard it draws blood, nails digging into his palm to keep from laughing.

Mika fairly cackles, toppling completely onto his side on the floor. “Ooh, ooh, do the West next! I wanna hear what y’think Arashi sounds like!“

Izumi sits down, burying his face into his hands. “You,” he says, staring from between his fingers at Tsukasa, “you encouraged this.”

“I haven’t said a thing!”

“I’m blaming you. Accept it.” 

“I don’t have an accent, darling. Wait. Do I? Do I? What does it sound like?”

Leo scrunches up his face. “I can do a lady-style accent, but I dunno much about the West.”

“You know, I’m not sure if that’s an insult or a compliment,” Arashi says warily. “Anyway, you’re missing daylight. Oh, Ritsu wanted to bid you farewell before you left, Izumi darling.”

“I’ll go find a nice wig…and dresses that’ll fit you,” Natsume says with a flip of his hair, shoving past Tsumugi on his way to the door. “I mean, you’re fatter than me, but, hmm…”

“I can’t wait to leave,” Izumi says, exhaling a long breath as he rises. “I’ll go say good-bye to him and then dye my horse, I guess. Milord, do you need any help packing?” 

“I’m not the one bringing lots of dresses,” Leo says slyly, giving Izumi a kiss on the cheek. “Have fun, meet me in the stables. Just like old times, eh?”

Arashi bites his other cheek.

Izumi stares after Leo, and then slowly turns to look at Arashi. “Not a word,” he flatly says, and promptly stalks out of the room.

Ritsu’s room is situated as far from any common room as possible, to insure peace and quiet during the day. He knocks quietly, too, just to make sure. None of them have seen much of Ritsu or Mao since their arrival, except for Ritsu’s occasional appearance in the kitchens, but one can _assume_ they’re alive. 

Ritsu opens the door, with just a towel slung around his waist. He yawns, but more from sleepiness than from having just awakened, and he beckons a hand. “Ahh, good, you remembered, I forgot. Come in, I have a present for you.”

“I wasn’t going to disturb you,” Izumi admits, stepping inside. Mao, still very asleep, doesn’t as much as stir once, but Izumi does take note that he’s naked underneath the quilts, with the scar left from the Academy’s poison still obvious on his chest. “But Arashi told me you wanted to see me before I left.” He hesitates, voice lowering even more. “Is he…doing all right?” 

“He’s healing,” Ritsu assures him, and moves to the desk, pulling out a roll of parchment, stamped with an embossed seal, written in beautifully flowing calligraphy. “I asked around about what kind of reward you’d want for saving his life. Most people said wine and horses.”

“I mean—they weren’t wrong,” Izumi says with a startled blink. “But you don’t have to give me anything. You saved my life back in the Capital, I figured I was just returning the favor.” 

“He’s everything to me,” Ritsu says simply. “If I saved Leo’s life, you’d wanna give me something, right?”

“Of course.” Izumi hesitates, then sighs, a wry, almost-smile tugging at his lips. “Fine, I won’t turn it down. I’m glad I was able to help him.” 

“Good answer.” Ritsu hands over the paper, then tousles Izumi’s hair. “That’s the first one of those issued in, uh, three hundred years? Wait, was it three thousand? I forget...”

Izumi steps out from underneath Ritsu’s hand, now eyeing the roll of parchment warily. “Do I…do I open it? Or is this like some magical thing that’s going to unleash demons upon this world or something?” 

“Um, it’s an import contract, so definitely not gonna. Unless you want to import those.”

“Sure, okay, keeping that in mind. Then, ah, thank you for the extremely rare import contract. I’m assuming, based on what others told you I liked, it’s for wine and horses.” 

“Yeah.” Ritsu gives him a sleepy smile, then turns away, curling up on the bed, the conversation obviously over in his mind.

Izumi lingers for a moment, then leans over, lightly mussing Ritsu’s hair. “I hope you’re both well, the next time I see you,” he quietly says, and sweeps from the room, the door clicking shut behind him. 

“There you are.”

_Natsume moves like a cat, too-quick, too-flighty, and it takes Izumi by surprise when he reaches out, grabbing him abruptly by the arm to drag him down the hall. “Lord Shu is going to help dress you, and then you can be on your way.”_

“Uh—I need to go dye my horse first, I think—“

“Your prince has that covered.”

“I don’t think my prince has anything like that covered,” Izumi hastily disagrees. 

Natsume ignores him, manhandling him abruptly into his dressing chambers. “Lord Shu was _generous_ enough to step away from his _work_ to help make you look like a proper lady,” he insists. “So appreciate it!” 

“What, like it’s hard,” Izumi mutters, heaving a sigh. “I _do_ know how to wear a dress…” 

“If you don’t wish to look like an absolute fool,” Shu says without looking up from his task, pins in his mouth, hands straightening a final hem, “you’ll submit to everything I want to do to you. Take off your clothes and put on that slip first.”

Izumi’s lips purse, but he does as he’s told, stripping and folding his clothes, setting the rolled parchment on top of them. “I can’t help but feel like you’ve been plotting this for some time,” he dryly says, pulling the slip on over his head. 

“Don’t flatter yourself. I plan dresses for every exceptionally lovely boy and girl I know. With a very few, I actually make the gowns.” Shu straightens up on his knees, then stands, handing over a series of odd undergarments meant to conceal everything between the legs and give form to false breasts. “Only very few have actually had the honor of wearing them.”

Natsume flounces his way into a chair, dropping down there delicately. “Shu’s made _lots_ of dresses for me,” he says proudly. “And I get to wear all of them.”

“Yeah, because it’s your job to look like a convincing homewrecker,” Izumi deadpans, grimacing as he dresses, entirely too grumpy about it. _This is fine, it’ll get us into the Capital, and we won’t be hassled along the way._ “The last time I dressed like a girl…ugh.” 

“What’s _ugh_ about it? _I’m_ beautiful,” Natsume snaps. “Tsumugi’s the problem.”

“Literally no one mentioned that guy.” 

“When did you last dress like a girl?” Shu asks, incredulous. He unfastens the hooks and snaps, then helps Izumi into it, doing up the buttons that lace the back. “You make a rather fine one. Nice arse.”

“Right, I think we were both drunk when I mentioned it,” Izumi wearily says, sucking in a breath to make it easier for Shu to lace it up. He’s helped dress enough ladies after the fact to know that much. “My mother wanted a girl, so for the first bit of my life…well. In the North, no one really questions such things.” 

Shu looks up, mouth quirking. “You and Natsume have something in common, then. Now suck it in, I want--oh, you already are? Damn, hold on, I need to relace it in the front.”

“I’m nothing like _him_ ,” Natsume growls. “I’m the youngest Nightcloak the world has ever _seen_ —“

“You’re a pretty princess, give it a rest,” Izumi tiredly says, scowling at Shu. “Don’t lace me in so tightly that I can’t ride a horse properly!” 

“It’s not my fault your unusual proportions make your waist look smaller than it is,” Shu criticizes. “There, that should do it. Natsume, the wig, please.”

“He’s saying you’re fat,” Natsume snidely says, hopping up to retrieve the wig in question, long and ice-blonde, with waves already styled into it. 

“I’m not fat, to hell with you both.” Izumi draws in a test breath, satisfied that he’s not cinched in so tightly that he won’t be able to function normally. “Do I really need that much hair?” 

“It’s fashionable for ladies to have long hair right _now_. And if you’re married to a wealthy merchant, then this is what you get.” 

“If your hair would only take dye, we wouldn’t need to do this. Hmm...but I cannot say that I’m displeased with the result. My tailoring skills are a bit rusty, but at least you look absolutely stunning, yes, yes, Natsume, tell me how lovely he looks!”

“I can’t believe I have to do this,” Izumi groans, shutting his eyes. “Maybe I should just say screw it, and shave my head.”

Natsume takes a step back, hands on his hips as he critically looks Izumi up and down, over the layers of white and blue ruffles and lace that make up a perfectly fancy, but still perfectly suitable traveling dress. Combined with long, blonde hair, and he does, unfortunately, look like a lovely court lady on an excursion, not a spot of makeup needed for already high cheekbones and pink lips. He huffs, annoyed, and shrugs. “He looks fine, I _guess._ But only because it’s you, Shu. Can you walk in heels?” 

“Can I, what kind of question is that, to hell with you.” 

Izumi lifts up his skirts enough to see where his feet are going as he slips them into the short heeled boots with a grumpy noise. “Be grateful I have tiny feet. Are you done with me? I need to go say good-bye and have Arashi strap my sword into my skirts, I suppose.” 

“I recommend daggers, or you’ll purse the fabric,” Shu says, tapping his chin as he walks a slow circle around Izumi. “But yes, I’m done with you. Go, and be safe, my potion won’t be done cooking for another week.” _Please hold on until then, Rei._

“No one can stop me from taking my sword,” Izumi firmly says, and because he doesn’t hate Shu, he tries not to roll his eyes as he gives a surprisingly polished curtsy, the bend of his knees and bow of his head easily mimicking a court lady’s. “Stay safe, Milord,” he says sweetly, taking his voice up a neat octave before he collects his gifted scroll, and strides out of the room and back down the hall. “Arashi! Arashi, come help me, there’s no _way_ I can hide all the sharp things I need by myself!” 

Arashi’s face is a perfect mask of shock as he looks at Izumi. He blinks, then looks again. “Um. I, um. You look. Very, ah. Cute!”

Mika peers from around Arashi, actually looking at Izumi for once. His eyes double in size, and he looks abruptly away, blinking hard to clear his vision. “Whoooa. You look like a cupcake.”

“I—“ Izumi flushes, trying not to glare at both of them. “Can you please just help me figure out how to stash some weaponry in all of this mess?” 

“Go on, _kara_ ,” Mika teases, giving Arashi a little nudge forward. “Lift the pretty lady’s skirts.”

Izumi glowers, stuffing the parchment down into his corset. “Honestly, he’s right, you should get some practice.” 

“I told you, if I ever get married, I’m just going to let someone else put the bread in her oven,” Arashi says crossly, but he removes a few of his hidden sheathes, then kneels to strap them around Izumi’s waist and thighs, and one around his ankle. “Don’t lift your skirts too high, or it’ll show. Oh, looks like Shu sewed you a very deep pocket, if you want to plop a dagger in there. As for your sword...hmm. Mika, _amaka_ , can you do a spell to make it smaller, or maybe to make the pocket expandable or something? I’m still not sure what all you can do.”

“This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done,” Izumi sighs wearily, staring up at the ceiling. “Honestly, if I still get recognized as this, I’ll just cut my own throat and hope for the best.”

“Prolly won’t work, you heal too fast now,” Mika hums, and kneels down, flipping up Izumi’s skirts to get at that pocket. “Hmm…I can _try_ , I just hope it isn’t too heavy after the fact,” he frets, but gives it a shot, anyway, and purple flames lick far too close to his legs for Izumi’s liking.

“Can you refrain from magicking _me_?” Izumi demands, relieved when Mika climbs out from underneath his skirts again, shaking out his hair. 

“Ehh, I think I managed.” Mika grabs Izumi’s sword off the table, and crawls back under, stuffing it into that pocket. It slowly disappears completely, and he leans back, satisfied. “Not too heavy, is it?”

“It doesn’t feel like it’s even there, actually…which is disturbing.”

“Good, I win.” Mika hops back to his feet, dusting himself off, and looks between them before shrugging and meandering away. “Y’all say goodbye, I gotta go help Master with his spells.” 

“See, aren’t you sad that you have to go play warrior instead of staying behind and watching your foot cook with me?” Arashi teases, leaning in to give Izumi a long kiss on the lips. “Have fun in the Capital. Try not to kill too many of the men on the list, leave me something to do when I get bored.”

Izumi leans up, grabbing Arashi by his shirt to kiss him back with a little sigh. “I’ll see what I can do, but I _really_ want to ruin this dress with some blood.” He rocks back onto his heels, giving Arashi’s chest a light pat. “I hope the only news you get from the Capital is that the king has agreed to willingly step aside, and we’re all hiding for nothing,” he quietly says. “For Leo’s sake.” 

“For Leo’s sake,” Arashi echoes, nodding, then thumps Izumi’s chest in return. “Keep the voice up. Don’t let his Highness do too many silly accents, you’ll get noticed. Get that little wretch on the throne, and don’t let anyone scare you.”

“Like anyone’s going to scare me when I’m wearing this and can’t die,” Izumi scoffs, and he gives Arashi a little curtsy. “Be good without me, Milord, or I won’t kiss you when we reunite.” 

Involuntarily, Arashi makes a face. “Just...take off the dress, before you offer to kiss me again. I’m begging.”

“I’ll show up naked,” Izumi reassures him with a snort. “Keep that in your mind instead of this mess until I return.”

With that, Izumi strides off, making good use of the last chance he has to walk as quickly as a soldier would off to the stables. Outside, it’s been raining, and he gingerly picks up his skirts, making his way across the courtyard. “Milord?” he calls, peering down the stable hallway. “Please tell me you haven’t turn my horse into a travesty…” 

“I think he’s beautiful and very sexy!” Leo declares. “I had a lot of help from young master Hajime here.” 

He turns, then catches sight of Izumi, and stumbles back, hand over his heart. “What...gorgeous lady! Marry me at once, be my princess!”

Hajime peeks out from Vale’s stall—somehow, unscathed—and blushes at the sight of Izumi. “I…I tried very hard to make your horse look nice, Mi…lord…”

“Save it,” Izumi mumbles, flushing hot at Leo’s reaction and folding his arms over his chest. “Does that mean we’re ready to go?” 

“One more thing.”

Leo hefts up a saddle, plopping it on Vale’s back. It is, markedly, _not_ Izumi’s saddle. In fact... “It’s a side saddle! So you can ride even in your skirts without being indecent, haha!”

“Delightful.” Izumi walks over to Vale, who is now darkened to an almost jet black. He looks as put out about this entire affair as Izumi does, and promptly leans forward, trying to nibble on the ends of his wig. “Stop. Well, my lord husband, this means you get to help me up, if you want me to stay _decent._ ” 

Leo’s face flushes, and he lifts Izumi by the waist, hoisting him up onto the saddle. “Milady gets to ride astride the large horse, due to the beast’s gentle stride. I’ll be on the beast that pulls the cart!”

He gestures, to his own painted warhorse, Tempo, who’s currently sporting a new style of his own, hooked up to a cart stacked with supplies, the supplies that theoretically he’ll be trading in the Capital. “He likes it, don’t listen to his whining. He’s just bored and ready to go!”

“That’s not the face of a beast that likes a cart,” Izumi dryly points out, grumpily adjusting himself on the saddle, wishing now he’d taken those lessons Arashi had jokingly offered now. He smoothes his skirts with a sniff. Whatever, it’s time to use this whole getup as something entertaining—that is, to fluster Leo by simply existing. “Take a gentle pace with me, Milord,” he says, pitching his voice up with a flutter of his eyelashes. “Your wife is hardly accustomed to travels, long or short.”

Leo scrambles up onto his own saddle, face flushing as he urges them towards the gates, pointedly not looking at Izumi. “I should just force you to stay like this,” he says through gritted teeth, adjusting himself in the saddle. “Then I won’t have to take any _proper_ wife, and I can just worry about getting stabbed by feeling up your undergarments.”

“Force me? Milord, how crass,” Izumi huffs. Vale hates this as much as he does, tossing his head grumpily as Izumi guides him to fall into stride only a pace behind Leo’s horse. “If you like me in a skirt so much,” he hums, “all you have to do is ask and I’d let you flip it.” 

“Is it good if I ask for it?” Leo asks slyly, fingers combing through Tempo’s mane as he tries to gentle the horse into a brisk walk instead of the easy lope he desires. “Ah, easy, ya great wee beastie, we’re takin’ th’ long road t’th’Capital, aye we are!” He ends with a thick burr on his ‘r’s, then looks at Izumi, eyes hopeful. “How’s that accent?”

“Delightful, Milord, but might I caution against anything too…mm, showy? We are supposed to be from High Harbor proper, and so that means something milder, I think.” Izumi pauses. “And to answer your other question, you know, you’re right. Flip it without asking.” 

“Well, if you’re mine, then your skirts are mine too, logically,” Leo points out with a grin. “I’ll drop the accent for the moment. When we meet someone, it’ll be a surprise! Even I don’t know what I’ll do!”

“Nothing too showy,” Izumi firmly repeats. “It’ll draw too much attention to us. I already have trouble keeping my voice that high for too long, so appreciate your shy, demure wife that married you for your money, and maybe your freckles. Oh, remind me, when we stop for the night—Ritsu gave me a thank you gift, and it’s some sort of trading agreement. It might be helpful in negotiating with your father.” 

“Eh? A trading agreement? Ritsu’s from the West, there’s no trade problems with the West.”

“I don’t think it’s from the West. He isn’t, really.” Izumi tugs the parchment out from his bodice and breaks the seal on it with his nail before passing it over. “Here, you can look at it now, if you like.”

Leo scans a few lines, then has to dash to catch the paper as the wind whips it from his suddenly numb hands. He grabs it tighter, and reads it again. “Wuuooohohohohoho! Wow, wow, wow! This--this is incredible! Wahahaa, if you can drum up some capital, you’re rich for life!”

“I like the idea of being rich for life,” Izumi quickly says, kicking Vale forward to sidle up closer to Leo. “Do tell, do tell. Richer than the crown? Or rich like Kasa?”

“Rich like everyone in your Northern Kingdom could live like a nobleman if you felt like sharing,” Leo says, no hint of a joke in his voice. “There’s...I mean, my history lessons are vague because I don’t usually pay attention, but I’m pretty sure there haven’t been Shadowsteeds or Shadewine within our borders in like, a thousand years? I heard Shadowsteeds can fly. But I’ve also heard that they shoot lightning out of their eyes, and their hooves are made of black glass that can cut through diamonds!”

“Oh. I want one.” Vale tosses his head, snorting irritably. “Sorry, Vale, I don’t mean it. But I do, I really do want one. I thought those were just legends—and Ritsu said it had been either 300 or 3000 years, so I’m guessing somewhere in between. Give me that paper back,” Izumi orders, holding out his hand. “I’m keeping that safe. That should help benefit your reign when you take the throne, don’t you think?” 

Leo passes the paper over with great care. “Um, yes. Not to mention, Shadewine? Legend says that a single swig of it can make you immortal for ten minutes. Or that you can walk through walls...or that you can grow five times your own size. Or that you get _really_ drunk just by smelling it. Listen, it’s been a _long_ time.”

“That sounds like something I need, personally,” Izumi admits, tucking the paper away carefully into his bodice again. “Strip me carefully tonight, Milord, so that you don’t damage such precious cargo. I’ve made good friends, you see, by healing the right people.” 

“Keep being clever about it,” Leo suggests. “And I’ll live long enough to strip you carefully every night. Isn’t that a nice incentive?”

Izumi bats his eyelashes at him. “Considering I don’t remember the last time _you’ve_ stripped _me_ , Milord, yes—yes, it is.” 

“Maybe I didn’t feel like waiting in line.”

“There’s never a line for you.” 

Leo laughs, and pets Tempo’s neck. “There’s a good boy. Don’t worry, I won’t scandalize your ears with stories of what the maids told me, about cleaning around Captain Arashi’s room last night.”

Izumi heaves a long sigh. “Why are you listening to maids? They won’t ever tell you the full story of things, they just like to run their mouths. Besides, I feel disinclined to bother you when you’re already sleeping.” 

“I don’t know, they were quite enthusiastic about your...prowess.” Leo bats his lashes. “And here I thought you only used those special words with _me_.”

“He overheard it at the welcome back party and wouldn’t shut up about it, apparently,” Izumi groans, his head falling back. “I was doing Arashi a favor, you know? Mika wears him out. Ah, he’s nothing like you, though, he doesn’t say it back, that’s far less fun.” 

Leo scoots Tempo closer to Izumi, and tugs on his skirts. “I remember,” he says softly, “when you first made love to me. I said I was glad you wouldn’t be running around with women anymore, you deflected. I...I didn’t think I had to say it about men, since you said you’d only been with a couple, and only when you couldn’t have me. And you’ve decided, somehow, that it’s fine to have any man you like, and I don’t really remember agreeing to it. And I’m not saying I hate it--but I honestly don’t remember having that conversation. Have I gone mad?”

“‘Keep fucking your friends, I trust them all.’ Does that not ring a bell because you were drunk?” Izumi sighs heavily, staring up skyward. “Leo, I told you—if you wanted me to only be yours, I’d do it. But you waved it off, you know.”

“Oh. Did I?” Leo laughs, head thrown back, and Tempo echoes the noise, whinnying and tossing his head. “I did forget! See, this is why I asked!”

“That’s really quite stressful.” Izumi rubs at the bridge of his nose, exasperated. “Right. At the risk of sounding like _I’m_ insane—I can’t really help it. I’ve tried.”

“Tried? Tried what?”

“To not sleep with anyone else but you. Remember that week when I was driving you up the wall, eating you alive every spare moment we both had?”

“Ooh. Yeah. That was quite a lot of you naked and inside my arse.”

“Yes. And that was me holding myself back often. This is why I go to other people, you see; I don’t want to annoy you. You’ve got your own schedule, and most of the time, I’m satisfied with something that takes two minutes. I’d much rather spend _time_ with you, not time spent in your ass every damned second.” Izumi’s expression is wry. “Not that I don’t like being there. That’s just not the only thing I want from you.” 

“Right, right. Just...” Leo’s smile is wry in turn. “ _I’m_ your mare. That particular talk--save it for me, will you? I know, you probably think that’s silly, but...”

Izumi winces. “No, no, I don’t think it’s silly. I’ll save it for you, I promise.” He shrugs helplessly, sending waves of his newly acquired blond hair tumbling from his shoulders. “Though to be fair, who’s the mare now?” he jokes. “Ah, don’t flip it around on me, though, you can just talk to me as if I’m truly your lady. You make a dashing prince even after all this time.”

The grin Leo flips him is roguish, but he quickly melts it into something elegant and courtly, with a bow of his head to match. “I would that my lady would always find me so. My dove, entrust to me thy most precious thing, thine heart, and I will keep it to my own in safekeeping. From now, until the end of time, or until thou hold me in such high esteem as I, thee.”

Izumi feels his face heat up in spite of himself, and he flutters a distracted hand. “Stop it, stop it, I’m going to fall off my horse,” he complains—but it’s a half-hearted complaint at best. “You’re too good at that and it’s terrible.” 

“Too good? That was _amazing_ ,” Leo protests. “Four uses of the elevated _you_ in two sentences? I’m incredible! Heh, at least my tutors beat _one_ thing into me properly. How’s sidesaddle, by the way?”

“Obnoxious, but here I am, not dead yet. Talk prettily at me more, Milord, and take my mind off of how stupid I look. I mean, I’ll admit, it would be a damned shame if you don’t tumble me at least once when I’m dressed up like this, but _still._ ” 

“Oh, it’ll happen,” Leo assures him. “I’m certain that even a middling wealthy merchant can afford a private room at some wayside inn, no? And we have, what, five or six days to the Capital, traveling at this pace?”

“Excellent. Five or six days to muse on our fates and consider how, if nothing else, I have an import license with the Shadowlands.” 

“Yeah! Ahhh, I don’t even know what that’s going to mean. Isn’t that exciting? The world is still new! After all this time...” Leo swallows hard, eyes shining wet with excitement as he looks around. “Some things are still good and interesting and new!”

Izumi’s smile is wry, but he nods, glancing to the tail of Leo’s hair, which just won’t stay properly bound no matter what he does. “And some things are the same, and that’s fine, too,” he quietly says, leaning over to idly tuck Leo’s hair back into his hood. “I like that you haven’t changed a bit.” 

Leo ducks his head, then catches Izumi’s hand, bringing it to his mouth for a kiss. “But my lady’s eyes are ever constant,” he says, courtly again, “as the distant moon, and my ever-sought companion. Bury me in thy moonlight, entrancing nymph, and I will be thy illuminate slave.”

Izumi’s heart threatens to thud its way out of his corset, and he struggles to do anything but flutter for a moment, finally settling with jerking his hand away and pointedly looking _forward_. “W-wait until I’m prepared next time, at least!”

“Ehhh? You _just_ said to talk prettily at you some more!”

“Well—you—“ Izumi huffs, feeling his face continue to flush no matter how he wills it not to. “You’re very charming. It…it’s startling.” 

Leo pokes Izumi’s side, teasing gently. “Just because I don’t do it all the time doesn’t mean I’m rusty. I _am_ your prince, you know. I also know thirteen kinds of waltz.”

Izumi turns his nose up, swatting Leo’s hand away. “I _know_. That, ultimately, is why I’m going to marry you some day.” 

“I know. I’ve already composed our wedding waltz.”

Izumi’s cheeks darken further. “Maybe I should just stay disguised as a woman, then,” he murmurs. “A shame I wasn’t born one, honestly—the prince and the only Northern heir, that would’ve been a solid match.” 

“I know,” Leo says glumly. “They used to talk about it all the time, when you were young--you know they were angry about you long before you got to the Capital, right?--because they thought your mother would eventually marry one of them, or die childless, and either way the North would be theirs. You ruined that, you clever bastard page.”

“Ahh, I’m so relieved, ruining their plans from the moment I was born. That does sound like me. Please tell me the moment you declare yourself king you’re going to start calling me your bastard _knight_ , by the way. It has such a nice ring to it.” 

“A lovely ring--but you’ll have to be my bastard squire for a little while, first. Tradition, you know.”

“Let me skip it, shouldn’t extended years as a page roll over into all of that? Plus, you know, unprecedented skill in battle, the fact you adore me…” 

Leo rolls his eyes. “I thought you might want to squire for me, you ass. You get to be my valet for a little while, sleep _in my bedchamber_ , dress and undress me...but of course, I understand, your dignity is important.”

“But I’m going to do all of that anyway.” Izumi smiles at him sweetly. “So why not let me just be a knight, finally, and give my poor, battered ego a rest for once while I still wait on you hand and foot?”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure that doing _more_ things irregularly will let you win over the hearts and minds of those nobles who already think you flaunt every custom,” Leo says dryly. “Try not to make _every_ ally into one of my enemies on my first day?”

“What’s going to be irregular about it? I’ll be the most dedicated knight you’ve ever seen, undressing you and sleeping in your bedchamber every night.” 

“You’ll have the same duties as a knight, just take the title for one damn year and let me call you _my_ bastard squire!” Leo huffs. “A knight belongs to the realm. A squire belongs to his master. Of everything you want to skip, it’s the part where you’re publicly mine?”

“Hate to tell you, but as a knight, I’m _still_ going to belong to you,” Izumi sniffs, undeterred. “I’m hearing you, but you _could_ just change a few laws, let us be wed, and then I’m forever publicly yours. I’ll be your wife, I _will_. I have a number of the skills necessary, and who knows, maybe because I’m half-blooded, I can even get pregnant.” 

Leo snorts. “Sure. I’ll just change a law that says any men can wed, I’m sure that won’t cause any rifts or issues in the kingdom. Now, if I actually _can_ get you pregnant, then I’ll just declare you a woman and marry you.”

“You can scoff at it, but in the North, there are ceremonies. Nothing that can be officially recognized for tax purposes or anything like that, but…” Izumi shrugs. “It’s something. But whatever, just keep trying to knock me up.” 

“I’ve heard some snakes can change gender. My real question is, am I putting it in the right hole?”

“Do you even remember which hole is the right one?” 

“I mean, you never seem to complain, and you’re the only hole I’ve ever done it with...”

“Well, for better or for worse, there’s still only one hole down there,” Izumi deadpans. “Let me know if you need me to try and change it up a bit, then we can see about some more silver-haired brats. That _would_ create quite a stir, wouldn’t it.” 

“They’d be beautiful,” Leo says softly, completely serious. He holds Izumi’s eyes, then grabs his hand. “I mean it. If you ever...if it ever happened. I’d marry you. Our children would be kings and queens.”

“…The fact that I’m considering this should tell you exactly how much I love you,” Izumi mutters, burying his face down into one hand. “Just marry me anyway, you ass. I’d never look at another man or woman again.” 

Leo snorts. “That would last about nine minutes, until someone walked through and offered. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Nope. If I was married to you, you’d never be able to get rid of me. You’d hate every second of it and you’d never get anything done because I wouldn’t stop chewing on you. Enjoy.”

“I’ll be the king, Milady will need to find entertainment while I run the country. And you won’t be able to go to war, you know.”

“The insinuation I _like_ going to war is hilarious. I don’t want to go out onto the field and get filthy again, thank you, I’d rather train and manage our men back home—but none of that matters, because I’m going to have horses from the Shadowlands. I’ll be preoccupied, _except_ for when you’re anywhere near me, in which I’m going to eat you alive.” 

Leo thinks about this for a long minute, then nods firmly. “You have yourself a deal, Milady.” He reaches over and squeezes Izumi’s hand, adding more quietly, “I’ll take an oath of fealty to you now. It’s not the same as a marriage, but that doesn’t mean it’s less important.”

Izumi’s heart thumps hard. “Ah. Leo, Milord, that’s…you know, that’s not strictly fair, when I’m not even allowed to swear to you as your squire yet.”

“You rejected my offer of being my squire!”

“I did not! You didn’t formally ask, you can’t, you’re not king! Have you been apart from me so long that you thought I was doing anything but complaining?” Izumi huffs, pulling his hand away. “Declare yourself king already and I’ll swear as your squire in this damned dress if you like. Or if you’d rather I not, and instead, swear to you as your lady, I’ll do that. Just tell me how you’d like me to present myself in the Capital and I’ll do it, for you.”

Leo pulls his own hand back with a huff, aristocratic nose in the air. “Fine. Ahaha, I’m probably putting the cart before the horse. I’ll worry about this when I’m actually king!”

Izumi’s lips purse, and he shifts in his saddle, wincing as he readjusts his legs. “What are you going to say to your father? We haven’t talked about that in depth.” 

“Probably because I haven’t decided,” Leo admits. “I go back and forth about wanting to stab him and wanting to cry on his lap.”

“Leo. You have to go in assuming you’re king already.” 

“Um, not to put too fine a point on it, my beloved squire-to-be, but I’m really not, at all. My father is king.”

“And he, at the very least, tolerated the idea of having you killed.” Izumi can feel his blood pressure rising. This would be why they haven’t discussed it further, of course. “Fine. If you aren’t going in asking him to step down, what _are_ you considering?”

“First of all,” Leo says firmly, “there’s no evidence of that. Honestly. Just because I hate his political opinions doesn’t mean I think he wanted me killed. My uncle, now, he’s definitely a piece of shit, but if I accuse my father of something I have no proof of, I’m no better than my uncle.”

“So then your plan is to go in and ask him if he has had anything to do with it. Which, of course, he’ll say ‘no’ either way, because you’re a far more convenient heir.” Taking the cynicism out of his words is nigh impossible at this point. “Right, so, that happens—and then what? You forgive him and move on?”

“What I was _planning_ on,” Leo grumbles, “is not bringing it up first, actually. I think it would be best to go in, and announce my joyous return. If he tells the guards to attack me, then obviously, he’s a traitor, and I should challenge him. But if he embraces me because he wants me as an heir, then I’ll demand he give me more official duties so that I can start changing policies.”

“And your uncle? And every other corrupt lord running around in the Capital?” 

Leo’s face is pained, twisting as he looks away. “You can charge them in court, if you like. But if he takes me back, I have no personal proof that they were behind it. I didn’t see anyone.”

Izumi’s heart sinks into his stomach. “You’re leading me into a lion’s den,” he says, voice quiet. “They’ll charge _me_ with treason, and your lovely father will let them.” 

“They can’t,” Leo says firmly. “My lovely father, as you put it, prevented that from happening when he declared us both tragically dead at the hands of the Demon King. Now, if my uncle and his fine lords claim we’re treasonous, it makes father look weak, uninformed, and he’ll have to have my uncle declared traitor as well. It’s his own fault, he broke about thirty laws, important ones, when he went after us. If he’d declared it publicly with Father’s approval, that’s one thing, but he didn’t. Either he makes Father look weak--which Father won’t stand for--or he makes himself look like a traitor--which means his life is forfeit, so he won’t do that--or he pretends he had nothing to do with it.”

“The moment I try to charge them in court—it’s going to undermine your father, too. Because then I didn’t die by the Demon King, obviously, I was in the Sandlands being tortured the whole time. But they’ll deem _that_ appropriate, because of all the testimony they apparently have against me already—and if they’re saving face, they’ll artfully delete the parts about you, and hang me out to dry…because I’ve been working with the Demon King the whole time.” Izumi dislikes the growing panic behind his words, but it’s unavoidable. “So my options now include keeping my mouth shut.”

“For the moment. I guess. I don’t know,” Leo groans, slumping forward. “This is what me as a king is going to be like, you know. You telling me how bad my decisions are, me worrying myself to death, every answer having thirty cons and almost no pros.”

Izumi falls silent for a long moment, staring straight ahead, trying to ignore his pulse pounding too-fast, too-loud through veins that feel uncomfortably cold. “It’s very convenient for you to say things and then forget them, isn’t it, Milord,” he finally says. “But it’s fine. I’ll keep my mouth shut.” 

“I--”

Leo growls, hands flexing, wanting to take a sword and slash through his problems, though they’re incorporeal. “I just meant in Court. It’s not like I’ll keep you from pursuing your private agenda--I just--I can’t promise very much until I know what’s happening, I hate this!”

_You already promised me a great deal._ Izumi’s teeth grit, and he blinks hard, keeping the sting of tears at bay. The urge to whirl his horse around and head back to High Harbor, to grab Arashi and beg him to come to the Capital with him—ah, but no, that doesn’t work either. Maybe if he heads north instead, he’ll run into his mother. “It’s fine,” he says instead. “Do what you have to do.” He nudges Vale forward, uncaring if it’s unseemly for a lady to ride ahead of her husband. “Pick up the pace, I’d rather get to the capital sooner.” 


	28. Chapter 28

_Disobedient Wizards need to be punished._

Makoto wakes out of a dead sleep with sweat pouring from every inch of his skin, staring up at the ceiling with wide, unblinking eyes. The voice had been so powerful, speaking not just in his ears, not just in his mind, but resonating in his very bones. It’s not entirely familiar to him, but he knows who it is, even if he’s only met the Emperor twice and briefly. 

_Open up to me, Makoto. You know you must._

Makoto shivers, knowing in his heart that he’s being watched, he’s being seen, that Eichi can see into every part of his heart.

_Tell me where you are. Tell me where the traitors are._

The pain starts, just the way he remembers it from his days of re-education. It starts in his bones, shaking them so hard his joints feel as if they’re about to rip apart. His skull vibrates, so hard his eyes feel like they’re going to dislocate, and tears stream down his face. They don’t actually go flying--the pain is all in his head, he knows, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less, or make him any less convinced he’s going to die. 

_Tell me, Makoto._

_He grits his teeth, and thinks back, as firmly as he can, No!_

The pain stops.

The laughter starts. 

_Thank you for answering. See you soon..._

Makoto’s heart sinks. _Oh...what have I done?_


	29. Chapter 29

Nearly four days in, Izumi has steeled himself. 

Perhaps a better phrase is ‘resigned himself.’ Traveling slowly gives him time to mull over Leo’s words. Comparing them against Leo’s declaration on the beach, when Izumi had been sobbing and mad— _if I declare war on my father, if he won’t denounce them, they’ll be war criminals—he has the opportunity to rid himself of monsters in the realm, and if he refuses, it’s not the realm I want to run—I’d do it, for you—let me carry you for awhile—_ it’s incongruous, and it hurts. Rationally, knowing that Leo is just nervous, just trying to do what’s right—none of that applies when Izumi’s heart aches in his chest, when his pulse won’t stop pounding from anxiety, and being rather short with Leo for several days straight isn’t making it any easier. 

When he’s almost worked up the courage to say something about it, the road ahead…comes to a stop. Specifically, there’s an enormous road block, riddled with soldiers, and Izumi’s nerves are on edge for an entirely different reason, his hand sliding down to the pocket of his skirt where his sword lies. 

“We need to turn around,” Izumi quietly says before they get too close. “There’s a few alternate routes—if we turn around now, we can still make it to the road fork by nightfall.” 

“You two! Come forward.” 

“Shit,” Izumi curses underneath his breath, hands tightening on Vale’s reins. 

The soldier that waves them in isn’t brandishing any weapons, at least, but that means nothing. “That’s a Northern horse, I can tell a mile away,” he says to the other man stationed with him, and Izumi exhales a slow breath. Maybe, if they bolt now, leave the fake wares, they can escape without anyone catching a real _glimpse_ of them.

Leo moves forward, sweeping into a bow that was easier to practice when he thought Izumi behind him would be smirking at him. The guilt has been worrying at him harder than the nerves, and he feels his stomach turn over more every time he tries to talk to Izumi and gets a terse response. He puts on a false smile, and offers, “Good evening, my fine lords. We, that is to say, I am but a humble merchant, headed to the Capital to sell my--”

Another guard pushes him to the side, eyes locked on Izumi. “You! A Northern lady doesn’t let her man speak for her--you have a tongue? Are you a captive, Milady?”

Izumi sucks in a nervous breath. Being recognized as Northern so easily— _that_ he hadn’t expected, but he supposes the look of his house is difficult to erase, especially when he’s on a Northern horse. Vale shifts underneath him, snorting, tossing his head when the guard steps closer, ready to lash out and act the part of a warhorse than any tame mount for a lady, and Izumi’s fingers twitch around the hilt of his sword. 

But then, he _looks_ at the man questioning him, and his heart pounds. “D…Dayton? Sir Dayton?” He’s surprised enough to forget the pitch of his voice, even. The North isn’t exactly _full_ of people, and the officers in his mother’s armies he knows all by sight. Izumi looks away, frantically back to the roadblock, and he counts at least two other familiar faces. “Is this…holy shit.” 

“Lord...Izumi?” 

Dayton’s mouth falls, and he surges forward, to kneel at Vale’s feet, planting his sword’s tip in the ground. “Lord Izumi, are you in distress? My sword is yours, please allow me to take you to your mother’s court.”

“Up, up, I’m in hiding—“ Izumi glances about, making _sure_ there’s no one else on the road. Relief pours through him, hard and fast, and Izumi feels his knees wobble. “I could hug you right now,” he manages with a laugh. “I’m fine, I’m—yes, please take me to her, and—“ He spares a glance to Leo, his voice lowering. “My companion is the prince, he needs to be taken into safety as well.” 

Dayton’s head whips to the side, and his eyes widen, but he doesn’t move. “I understand, Lord Izumi. You’ll both be under our protection, for as long as you’re with us. May I have your leave to lead your horse as you ride? It would be an honor to my house.”

“Shouldn’t you be…” _Leading the prince’s horse? Honestly._ If these were the manners he came to the Capital with, no wonder he was as good as dead from day one. “By all means,” Izumi says, in too much of a hurry now to argue. “It’s Vale, though. Fair warning.” 

“It would be an honor to be bitten by such a magnificent beast,” Dayton assures him, carefully bowing to the horse, then taking the reins, nodding to another guard to lead Leo’s reins. Then he leans back, and confides, “Also, I’m wearing chain mail _and_ leather under this shirt.”

“Brilliant,” Izumi manages, jittery and restless now. My mother is here, this entire area is full of nothing but Northerners, we’re safe, I’m safe. 

_There are far more soldiers than Izumi remembers as a part of the North’s forces—but needs must, he supposes. His mother has never been known to practice restraint, which is where he got it from, or so he’s been told. All he’s ever really seen of his mother is her sweet nature, with her sharp tongue mostly reserved for when he’s late to sweep out the kitchens, so for her to be leading an army for his sake…_

His eyes start to water before he can stop himself, and Izumi holds in the urge to sniffle, at least until he’s in _private_. They’re led straight through the encampment, and just as he turns to say a few encouraging words to Leo, the sight of his mother leaving her tent makes his heart stop. “Mama!” _Did she know I was alive? Who told her?_ _Who even cares?_ “Mama, it’s me!” 

Maya of the Sena house looks up, long dark hair spilling over her shoulders, straight down her back, her chin held high and proud. At the sound of Izumi’s cry, her brow furrows, and her eyes dart around, scanning the crowd until she spots him. 

The cup she’s holding falls, shattering. She doesn’t seem to notice. Its contents splatter over her skirt, and she doesn’t notice that either, sprinting forward, arms outstretched, ignoring the cup, ignoring the danger of Vale, ignoring everything to grab Izumi out of his saddle, skirts and all, grabbing him in a fierce and unrelenting hug as she spins him around. “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I--my baby, my baby, I’m never letting you go, you hear?”

Izumi throws his arms around her, squeezing her tightly, and he only releases her for a second to rip that obnoxious wig off, revealing the _almost_ appropriately long-enough tumble of silver hair, a tell-tale sign for any observers that he is, truly, who he says he is. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispers, burying his face into Maya’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean to worry you, or make you do all of this—gods, Mama, the moment they told me you were marching on the capital…” 

“As if I’d do any less for you?” Maya squeezes him even tighter, then sets him down, grabbing his face in her hands. “I’d dig that false king’s heart out with a spoon and eat it for you.”

Izumi’s lower lip wobbles, and he bursts into tears, shoving his face right back into her neck. “D-don’t say that, or I’ll go do it with you,” he sobs, clinging to her tightly. “S…sorry, I’m so tired, I…” He hiccups. “I just wanna change out of this mess and eat your cooking.”

“Of course, my love, of course.” She peppers his head with kisses, then drags him back into her tent. Over her shoulder, she calls, “Give the other one a reward and a bath,” then signals to her guards, who close the tent and form a barrier with it between her and the outside world. 

She gestures to the tub in the corner, kept chilled, next to a hot stone on the ground and a tower of fluffy blankets. “Get out of that nonsense, I’ll start cooking. You want the roast beet soup? I’ve got everything I need, even on the road.”

“Ah—Mama—“ Izumi hesitates, even as he starts to strip, yanking on the lacings of his dress. It’s easy enough to get out of it on his own when he works on the front lacings only, and considering he’s been uninterested in having Leo yank on his corset for the past couple of days… “The person with me—that’s the _prince._ ” It’s startling how many comforts of home are stuffed into one tent, and he’s probably never stripped faster in his life, the allure of dousing himself, full body into that tub, is impossible to resist. “I’m escorting him back to the capital,” Izumi says, slinking down into the water with his eyes fluttering once he’s entirely rid of dress and every obnoxious part about it. “He’s…ah…you can’t let him be unattended, it’s too dangerous.” 

“Unattended? Of course not, I’ll take care of it.” She looks over his dress, blinking. “Hmm! These are fine, in their own way, but if you’re going to be incognito, I’ll have you a fine Northern gown made. Now, is your prince loyal to you, or shall I have him in less protective custody, and more _protective custody?_ ”

“Mama, it’s not Northern _because_ I’m hiding, you know? I was fitting in with ladies from High Harbor, which fit in just fine in the Capital.” Izumi shuts his eyes, flopping back against the side of the tub. “Leo’s…” _Of course he’s loyal to me,_ would be the words that would have left his tongue effortlessly only a few days ago, but now, Izumi’s mouth twists. “Be nice to him. He’s trying.” The words feel like ash on his tongue. “I just don’t agree with his plans right now.” 

“Is he aligned with his father?” Maya asks archly. “Or against? If against, I’ll smuggle him into the city, and they can fight each other, which will make it far easier for me to storm it. If he won’t stand up to his father, he can wait nice and pretty in our camp until it’s all finished. Don’t make me come over there and scrub you, your mother’s got red beet hands.”

“I’m soaking, Mama, let me for a second,” Izumi complains, sliding further down into the water, until the ends of his hair can start to soak as well. His lips purse, and he glances down, eyes lidding. “I thought he was against his father,” he quietly says. “He told me he was. Then he…changed his plans, when we left for the Capital.” He shrugs, scooping up handfuls of the cold water and dousing his face before he grabs a washrag tossed over the side of the tub. “He’s trying to do what’s best for everyone, but I’m…having a hard time seeing it that way. It’s a long story.”

“Your brave prince sounds like a coward,” she says bluntly, and slices the tip off a fat beet with a huge knife, the tip flying through the air. “Sweetheart, you don’t need someone who won’t stand up for you. Get a good Northern man who says what he means and stands for it--Dayton would be good to you, I always thought you’d be quite a match.”

“Mama, Dayton’s not handsome enough.” Izumi sighs, his head falling back over the side of the tub. “It’s a lot more complicated than that. Leo’s…he’s not a coward, he…he just wants to please everyone.” He swallows, looking aside, scrubbing at his face before he can start crying again. “But it still hurts. He told me he was going to challenge his father—or at least, give him a chance to…to prove that he wasn’t such a terrible man, by asking him to denounce all the men that tried to kill me. But now he’s saying he has to _talk_ to his father first, to see if his father really wanted _him_ dead and…and if his father didn’t know about everything that happened, then I’m shit out of luck, because Leo wasn’t there, he can’t be a witness. He said I can just go after them in court _._ ” 

“Your prince,” Maya says, more carefully this time, “sounds like a boy. You need a man, or no one at all. And all boys lose their looks eventually, you know. Might as well go for one that doesn’t have any to begin with. Ugly men work harder to please you in bed, it’s worth thinking about.”

“I’m too beautiful to be with an ugly man,” Izumi mutters crossly, giving himself a last, thorough scrub before he hauls himself out of the tub, towels himself off, and deposits himself straight onto the warming stone, bundling himself up in blankets. “I just…he didn’t _promise_ , but it sounded like he did, you know?” His lower lip wobbles again, until he bites down onto it. “I’ve been trying so hard. I refused so many chances to swear to other men, to actually _be_ someone in the capital, but instead I wanted to wait for him and be his squire and now this…just feels like a slap to the face. If I go back to the capital with him, if his father feeds him what he wants to hear, there’s no way he can _ever_ keep me by his side. Every single man that tortured me is still there, sitting at the king’s dinner table, and I can’t…” His heart pounds, his mouth suddenly dry. “I can’t keep my mouth shut and let them live. I can’t _behave_. And it’s not just about me—I’ve made so many promises based on what I thought Leo would do, but now I’m…I’m just terrified that it won’t happen unless I move first.” 

Maya spoons her soup into a bowl, then sticks a spoon in it, garnishes with a fat dollop of fresh cream, and brings it over to where Izumi lays curled on his side. “You’re not going into the Capital, that’s for certain. Not until that King is dead, and I melt that stupid crown for scrap gold and put a proper stone one on your head.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Izumi murmurs, slowly shifting at the smell of actual, _familiar_ food, and forces himself to sit up, taking the bowl from her. “Thank you. Mama, I want the king dead, too…but Leo is the perfect choice, he just has to get on the throne first.”

She smiles, and strokes his cheek, then pats it before standing up. “Good boy, but it’s not really up to you any longer. I admit, I wasn’t sure if anyone would follow me when I rose up against the King, but our army isn’t just Northmen, you know. We picked up quite a few allies along the way. And not all of them are here for your pretty face, Milady. We’ve got our own grievances with that Royal Ass.”

That explains why the encampment is so much larger that he imagined it to be. “That’s—Mama, that’s insane,” Izumi protests, setting his bowl down as his appetite swiftly wanes. “You can’t be serious about trying to put me on the throne. Leo’s the _obvious_ choice—he’s literally right here! If we fight to overthrow the king and help Leo be where he needs to be…” 

“Sweetheart, I don’t care about him at all,” she says, without a hint of remorse. “I care about _you_. And I’ve used you as a rallying point to get them all here. Your death, though I never believed it, was a complete and total affront to the law, and his response to it was _not_ that of a good king. So. We have a force larger than the Royal Army, and we have the right on our side.” She beams. “Isn’t that comforting?”

“Mama, I love him,” Izumi blurts out over the sound of his thudding heart. “You can’t just toss him aside. I won’t stand for it. I…” He swallows, glancing down. _She’s right, it makes sense, she’s doing what I wanted Leo to do, but…_ “I…I have allies. In the West, in the Capital—in the Shadowlands, even. Wizards, too. But—if we’re just tossing Leo aside, I won’t call them, you can’t make me.” 

Maya purses her lips. “Oh. Well. Then...talk to him. See if you can’t light a fire under him. Now that you can both see what sort of forces are on our side, he might have changed his mind. Being presented with another option can do that, for people. Lesser people, who won’t do the bold thing no matter what.”

“…I’ll talk to him later.”

Izumi curls up with his bowl of soup, not really interested in eating it just yet, but he does like _having_ it. “I also have a list of every single noble house in the capital that needs to die.” He braces himself, and carefully adds, “And you have three grandchildren.”

“Well.” Maya sits back onto her heels, then brushes her hair back from her face with shaking hands. “I suppose it’s about time. Nobles, I hope?”

“Yes, and all girls.” Izumi winces. “The annoying thing is that they coincide with houses that are also on my to-kill list. Obviously, if possible, I’d like to do something about it. None of them are older than two, at the _most._ ” 

Maya sighs, then nods firmly. “Well, then it’s been done. Tell me what you want to do, and what you want me to do.”

“If we’re taking the capital…then I want them out first.” Izumi hesitates, then huffs a breath, pressing forward. “And Leo’s sister, too, if possible. This is non-negotiable. I’m sorry, Mama, I know you’ve been planning everything for months, but I have, too. I’ll do it myself if I have to. Rains, Hennessy…and Karn, those are the houses they’re in.” Izumi glances up, holding her gaze. “If you have means of sending a missive to High Harbor, then I’ll send one to my allies there. But…only after I have a chance to talk things over with Leo. He deserves a chance to change his mind.” 

“I can send missives anywhere, I have all the men I need to do whatever you need. And better horses than anyone down here, that’s for certain.” She pets his hair for a moment, clicking her tongue over the ends, where it’s still slightly uneven. “What can you and your friends contribute? We move within the week with our siege.”

“Sir Arashi has the largest army in the West. I’m not sure all of them would fight against the crown, but if he tells them a good reason to…they would. He also has two wizards under his command. Sir Tsukasa—he’s the Suou family heir, from the capital, and his entire family already hates the crown, and would take their financing away. They’ve just been waiting for the word. And Sir Ritsu…is a half-blood wizard from the Shadowlands.” Izumi’s expression is wry, and he reaches up to tuck his hair behind his ears. “Not only do I have a trade agreement with the Shadowlands, but his brother is the Demon King, and I’ve been staying at his estate in High Harbor, so there are allies there as well. I’m not sure how much he’d be willing to contribute right now, but if we can afford it, I’ve heard Shadowland horses are pretty cool, if we need _more_ better horses. Ah, and—do you remember Makoto? The wizard that bloomed in the North, years back? I _might_ have stolen him from his post.”

Maya stares, and slowly, her jaw drops. Then, she asks slowly, “Is this a result of you falling in love, or being at war? Either way, I’m sending you to do it again.”

Izumi opens his mouth, then shuts it again. “I mean. They’re all handsome,” he eventually says. “And I’m fun. That’s part of it.” 

“Sweetheart, I thought we had a talk about keeping your legs at least twenty degrees closed during a first meeting. When you were eleven.”

“ _Mama_ , I followed that rule every single time! Except—listen, Ritsu and Tsukasa, that was Arashi’s fault entirely, and it was for a blood pact.” Izumi huffs, snatching up his bowl of soup to actually eat it now, albeit grumpily. “What’s it matter? They’re all loyal to me. I’d have every single one of them on my Kingsguard. And the wizards…they’re _so_ powerful. Even just having them on our side, standing there and doing nothing, would make the crown hesitate.” Annoyed that he’s so _behind_ this idea, Izumi heaves a sigh. “I need to talk to Leo, it’s not right that I’m discussing this behind his back. Will you have him brought in here? He’s a _good_ man, give him a chance.” 

She purses her lips, but moves to the door, having a quiet word with one of her guards. She sticks her head back in, clasping her hands in front of herself. “There, I’ve sent Dayton for him. I’ll listen, are you happy? I’ll let you talk to him, and I’ll honestly listen to whatever he has to say. I can’t say this will be popular,” she warns, “but it might give a good chance of keeping the country from a prolonged civil war. I hope he’s as good as you think he is.”

“He is, I swear.” Izumi’s mind flicks back abruptly to that night in the Sandlands, when he’d first recognized Leo in that bar, and Arashi had said something _so_ similar to him. _Gods, Leo, please don’t let me down right now._ Izumi finishes his bowl of soup, and settles back, keeping his blankets tightly wrapped around himself. “I want to send a missive to Arashi, no matter what,” he quietly adds. “He needs to know what’s going on. He’s just in High Harbor.”

“How many of them are you in love with, silly boy?”

“This one’s taken already, Mama, be nice.” Izumi hesitates, then wryly says, “But you’d like him. He’s handsome. Common born, but rose through the ranks himself. He’s the one—remember, the one that bought all those horses off of us? That’s Captain Arashi.” 

“Ahh, right, right. He _was_ quite dashing, though not quite...Northern stock. Ah, well, not everyone can be, I suppose.”

“Milady.”

Maya stands, gesturing, and Dayton enters, kneeling. “Milady, my apologies. The Prince’s tent had guards at the door, but it seems he slipped out. He only left a note.” He hands over the paper, and Maya takes it, opens it, rolls her eyes, and passes it to Izumi.

Gone to make it right. ♪

_“I’m going to kill him,” Izumi mutters, crumpling up the note and tossing it into the tub as a mix of frustration and worry wells up within him. Of all the times, Leo, why couldn’t you wait another ten minutes? “Bring me some clothes and I’ll ride after him and bring him back in a minute, the idiot.”_

“Absolutely not. I don’t know how your strange little forest creature plans to get in, but those walls cannot be breached by one man--they need to be besieged, and our catapults are still three days out. We’re making good progress on starving them out, since they don’t have any farms in there, and we’ve choked off all supplies going in. That’s still our best and quickest way. I’m certain your boy will be caught by our guards before he gets far. Is he a fast runner?” she asks, more curious than anything.

“Yes, and he’s a very talented archer, so you’d be better off letting me go and catch him because he won’t _shoot_ me,” Izumi snaps, kicking off his blankets. “Mama, _please_ —what if his father doesn’t welcome him back? What if he kills him?” 

With a few quick flips of the blankets, Maya swaddles Izumi so thoroughly that he’s knocked onto his ass, tangled in blankets as she tucks more around him and ties them tight. “I could swaddle you when you were an angry five-year-old and I can do it now,” she says with a grunt. “There’s not a damn thing you can do for that boy, let him make his move. He’s an adult.”

“Let me go! This isn’t fair, I’m—“ Tears prick into his eyes unbidden, and Izumi kicks, struggling to get away without actually hurting his mother. “I’m supposed to be protecting him! E-even if he’s a stupid idiot, I _have to_ —Mama, don’t leave me on the stone, I’m gonna _cook._ ” 

“Stop being a crybaby,” she says with a sigh, rolling Izumi off the stone. “You said you trusted him, put it to the test.”

Izumi sniffs, and stops struggling. “I trusted him before, too,” he miserably says. “And he made me feel like shit. I hate men.” 

“Well.” Maya gives Izumi’s face a pat. “Then give him a chance to prove himself to you. And this has an upside, because if he gets it wrong, then your Mama will kill him.”

Izumi’s eyes well up with tears again. “Don’t kill him, he’s perfect,” he sniffles, slowly worming his way over and turning his face to bury it into her side. “Mama, fix my hair, they cut it all off. And l-let me send a missive to High Harbor, Arashi will understand, he’ll send all his men.” 

“Shhh, shh. Let me take care of everything. Your Mama’s got care of you now.” She presses a kiss to his temple, pulling his head into her lap to cradle him properly. “And any man who isn’t worthy of you _will_ meet an unsavory end. No child of mine will let an unworthy piece of dung own his heart. And you’re the only child of mine, so it’s up to you to make good choices.”

Izumi huffs out a soft breath, then nods, shutting his eyes as he curls up. His mother is terrifying, but the threats sounds so familiar that it’s a comfort, more than anything. “I thought I did,” he quietly says. Hopefully, he’s not wrong yet. 


	30. Chapter 30

The Emperor comes, and nothing good comes with him. 

Natsume, sealed as he is, doesn’t feel or see any of it coming. The first he knows of it is a sound like some window shattering, then following that, the roof of the entire estate simply ripping off, the howling, shrieking of hundreds of spirits wrenching him from sleep. 

But that, too, is silenced soon enough. 

The bells make his head ache. Natsume can’t make his ears stop ringing even once the bells stop and scent of roses fills the air, and stumbling into the middle of battle at with Tsumugi trailing behind does not yield the results he’d like.

Eichi, draped in white, doesn’t even look at him. Instead, he frowns at Tsumugi, and his attention whips over to Wataru, currently engaged with Shu. “Wataru. _Do_ something about him.”

“That’s right, I’m the youngest Nightcloak—“

“Not you. _Tsumugi._ ”

Tsumugi opens his mouth even for a second, and the silencing charm Eichi slaps over him apparently reassures him long enough to let Wataru finish the job.

Natsume can’t forget the sounds of Wataru’s screams when his wings are ripped cleanly off his back, but more than that, he can’t forget the way Shu’s body hits the ground. Natsume lunges, screaming, but Tsumugi’s hands are on him, stopping him, and it’s one of the last things he remembers before waking up, cold and furious, in their little transport box. 

His eyes are narrowed, sharp slits as they flick around, taking note of his surroundings—which is to say, it’s Tsumugi. _Tsumugi_ , who Eichi fears, _Tsumugi_ , who stopped him from going to Shu—“You.” His voice is low, a hissing cat’s warning. “This is your fault.” 

Tsumugi’s eyes flick side to side. He’s managed to escape most of the beatings by keeping his head down, and gives Natsume a little smile that’s meant to be encouraging. Very, very quietly, he whispers, “I don’t think he knows the spell on me is gone. We can talk, if you want.”

Natsume’s lips curl, and he lunges, hands going around Tsumugi’s neck. “I’ll strangle your voice back _out of you_ ,” he lowly snarls. “How dare you stop me from helping Lord Shu—how _dare you!_ You’re working with him, aren’t you? That’s why he wanted you to shut up, y-you’re a traitor!” 

Tsumugi doesn’t even flinch, just letting Natsume’s hands strangle him. His eyes are sad, haunted, hooded. “I am a traitor,” he says softly, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. “But not to you. And not to Shu, though I’m sure he thought I was at worst, and useless at best.”

Natsume’s eyes sting, and he tightens his hands, shaking Tsumugi as hard as he can.He doesn’t get very far, not when his fingers are trembling like they are. “ _Explain_ ,” he shakily demands. “If you don’t, I’ll kill you right _here_.”

“You can, if you like,” Tsumugi whispers. His eyes fill again, and the tears spill down his cheeks. “I probably deserve it. What do you want to hear?”

“…Why is the Emperor so afraid of _you?_ ” Natsume sits back, the layers of his dress flopping down around him. Shu made it for him, and he’ll kill anyone that tries to take it from him, he _will,_ stupid Emperor and Faerie included. “You’ve never…you’ve never done a-anything to prove that he should be scared of you, but…” 

“He’s not scared of power,” Tsumugi says softly. His legs are splayed out like an unbalanced baby colt, despite the fact that he’s a man in his thirties. “He never has been. He’s afraid of the things I’ll say, not the things I’ll do.”

“He’s the _Emperor_ ,” Natsume whispers, staring back at him in disbelief. “What could you possibly say that would make him _afraid?”_

Tsumugi spreads his hands, helpless. “I know him. I was his friend. As much as he can have friends, I suppose.”

“Tell me something only his friend would know, then.”

“His favorite food is cheap beef ground with onions, fried in lots of oil.”

“…Sounds fake.” Natsume stares at him, frowning. “But I guess that’s what probably makes it real. Gross, by the _way_.” His gaze flicks sideways. “Is it true that he…and Wataru…that…that they have a resonant bond?” 

“Oh, yes.” Tsumugi’s smile is as sad as his eyes. “He didn’t tell me, but I can see it. I’ve always been able to see some things that other people don’t. It’s...not always a blessing.”

“Then he’s a hypocrite. The world’s biggest _hypocrite,_ i-it’s not fair he gets to have that but then won’t let the rest of us…” Natsume’s eyes well up with tears again, and he reaches out to slap Tsumugi’s arm in his frustration. “Stop looking so sad whenever you talk about _him._ You…you act like you were married to _him_ or something, that’s gross, you’re…” 

“He was my friend. And I believe...he did something that...” Tsumugi sighs, wiping his hands down his face. “He tried to force a resonant bond on me. And that, among many other things, is what he doesn’t want me to tell anyone.”

“He…he did _what?_ ” Natsume scoots closer, eyes wide. “Is that even _possible?_ That’s so strange…” He trails off, and he frowns. “Were you more awesome back then?” he bluntly asks. “Is that why?” 

Tsumugi shrugs. “I don’t know. I doubt it, I suppose. Ah, but I was more...willing to try new things, I suspect? I did...almost anything he asked of me. I believed in him back then, you know. It was just after the War. And when I bloomed, he came to me personally, and bought out my contract. I thought he was quite impressive, back then.”

Natsume’s mouth twists, and he looks away again, hugging his knees up to his chest. “Did he always…think that things had to be like this?” he asks. “I don’t want to go to the Academy.” 

“Oh, he didn’t always think anything. He thrives in conflict, you know? And he sort of...” Tsumugi sighs, slumping back against the wall. “He was so incredible, when we needed to bring the country together. He traded his entire existence to be a part of us. Oh, that’s probably what he doesn’t want anyone to know, too, is how he can be killed. I suppose I am the only person alive who knows, unless he’s told Wataru.”

“Why wouldn’t you tell anyone _that?_ ” Natsume snaps, his nails biting into his knees. “Shu could’ve killed him. If anyone could, Shu could—and Rei, Rei _definitely_ could’ve. You are a traitor, aren’t you? Or you just…you just don’t _care.”_

“It isn’t as easy as that,” Tsumugi says softly. “Shu couldn’t have done it. Rei couldn’t have done it at that time. He might be able to at one point, but not then. And anyone I tell? Immediately becomes Eichi’s first target. He still hesitates to kill me based on our previous friendship, I think, but anyone else I tell will not live. I have...a lot of dangerous knowledge.”

“A lot of good that’s going to do you when we’re all in _captivity_ , and Shu is _dead_.” Natsume’s lower lip wobbles. “You’re not thinking about anyone else. Rei…Rei would’ve done something, if you had _told him._ Shu would’ve too. And the Emperor already wants them dead so—ugh, stop calling him by his _name_ , he doesn’t even deserve that much!”

Tsumugi closes his eyes. They sting. Nothing has really hurt him in quite a while, but thinking about his friends--about Shu, about Rei, about Natsume looking at him as if he’s the worst thing there’s ever been--that does it. “I’ve seen a lot of people die for what I know,” he says softly, breath ragged. “And people die when I keep my mouth shut. I just...wanted to keep you safe. You’re the last thing I wanted to protect. I know you don’t want to hear that from me, but...”

“I’d rather _die_ than go to the Academy. There’s no part of it that’s going to _protect me._ ” Natsume fights down the urge to cry. He sucks in a ragged breath, looking away. “If you want to protect me…then figure something else out. Until then, you’re useless. You’re just _useless_ , and you’re a traitor, and I hate you.” 

“Ah...aren’t you a traitor too, though? You left the Academy, too.”

“I’m talking about being a traitor to _us!_ To Rei, to Shu—to K…Kanata—“ Tears spring from Natsume’s eyes, rolling swiftly down his face, and he quickly lifts his hands to wipe at his face, hiccuping. “Y…you’re just like W-Wataru, you probably l-love him or something, no wonder you aren’t trying to do anything. I hate you.” 

Tsumugi takes the hit with a sad little smile, just as he takes all the physical hits Natsume feels compelled to give him out. “I wish you wouldn’t say that. I care about you a lot, you know? I...” 

His face tightens, and he looks down and away. “I’m not very good about talking about my feelings or about saying anything true bluntly--I think I was around him for quite too long--but just so you know, Natsume...I never betrayed you. If--ah, if you had a dagger that only worked on the full moon, and someone attacked you during the day, would it be your fault that you didn’t stab them? If it would have helped, I would have said something, I...I promise.”

“How do you know it wouldn’t have helped?” Natsume’s voice is quieter, suddenly, and his fingers fist into the ruffles of his dress, tears still streaming slowly down his cheeks. “How could you know that more than someone like Rei or Shu? They’re…they’re supposed to be so cool and strong and the Emperor just—“ He bites his lip, huffing out a hot breath. “W-why aren’t you doing anything to make me feel better right now? You’re the worst, the _worst._ ” 

Tsumugi edges closer, reaching out to try and tug Natsume into his arms. He’ll probably be hit, but that’s all right. “Look, I don’t know a lot of things, all right? But I know some things, and one of them is how to kill my oldest friend. And I know that Rei or Shu couldn’t have done it, not them, not then.”

Natsume’s chest heaves in a sob, and he all but leaps into Tsumugi’s lap, face buried swiftly into his neck. “Stop talking, just s-stop,” he whispers, huddling up against him. “S-stop calling him your friend, _stop_ , stop sounding so calm, just…” 

“Just because he was my friend,” Tsumugi says, firmly, gently, holding Natsume to his chest, “doesn’t mean I’ll hesitate to kill him. Natsume...that’s why he won’t let me speak. But I’d do _anything_ to protect you and the others.” _Especially you._

“Prove it,” Natsume mumbles, clinging to Tsumugi’s neck, trying to stop shaking and failing. “P-prove it. I…I…R..Rei did everything to make sure I didn’t have to go into the Academy, please don’t make me go back…” 

Suddenly, they lurch to a jerking stop, and Natsume’s teeth bare, his nails biting into Tsumugi as he clings to him even tighter. Outside of their transport box, there’s the sound of shouting, but it’s too muffled, too muddled for him to make any of it out. “What’s going on?” he whispers. “We can’t be there yet, can we? I thought the Academy was further away…” 

“It is.” Tsumugi shifts, getting between Natsume and the box’s opening, breathing in and out, closing his eyes. “If you don’t speak, I can hide us. Just until we know what’s happening--even if they look right at us, they won’t see us.” He starts weaving the Veil, fingers tracing in the air, lips moving over silent words.

Natsume nods, huddling as close to Tsumugi as he can, face buried into his fluffy hair as he tries to calm his breathing down and not make a single squeak of a sound. 

Before Tsumugi can finish casting, the box suddenly tips over and sideways, and Natsume bites down on a shriek, tumbling over with Tsumugi with wide eyes. The door creaks open, bent on its hinges, but no one comes for them, not yet, though the sounds of horses shrieking, whinnying loudly in fear, and the sounds of swords clashing and the shouts of men following. 

“Check that box first!” 

That voice—it’s a shock that it’s here, and so familiar, and Natsume lifts his head when the door creaks open further. Behind it is Tsukasa, red hair pulled back into a stub of a tail at the back of his neck, a determined scowl on his face as he rips the door open further. “Lord Tsumugi,” he greets in relief. “And Milady—please, come with us, there’s not much time.” 

Tsumugi drops the ragged ends of the Veil with relief, immediately lifting Natsume up ahead of him, skirts wild around them both. “Please see to Natsume first, I--I’m quite dizzy! Ah, my word, that was quite a spill, wasn’t it? Lord Tsukasa, may I ask what you’re doing here? And where our, ah, captors may be?”

“They appear to have fled, like the villains they are! Ha ha!” Chiaki plants his hands on his hips, saluting. “Milord, Milady, I offer my assistance, such as it may be, and that of my corps. It’s just fortune that I found Lord Izumi and Lord Tsukasa on the road in time to help you!”

Tsukasa extends his hand, taking Natsume by the wrist. “Come, Milady,” he urges, hauling him up and easily into his arms. “There we are. My apologies for the rough landing, are you quite all right?”

Natsume nods shakily, sniffling as he clings to Tsukasa’s neck, still too wobbly to do anything but. “Tsumugi,” he mumbles, reaching out behind him. “Come.” 

The sound of Izumi’s cursing follows the sound of another box’s door opening. “Don’t kick, don’t kick, fucking hell, it’s me, you brat—“ 

Violet fire flickers on several surrounding tree branches, and Tsukasa’s horse spooks nearby, unsettled and displeased. Izumi pulls Mika out from his transport box wall-eyed and trembling, as white as a sheet, and he looks all the world like he’s ready to blow up everything around them. “Easy— _easy_ , Mika, relax, I’m not letting them take you back—“ 

“It doesn’t _matter!_ ” Mika shudders, clutching at him, his eyes wild. “Arashi—Arashi is dead, Master is dead, just take me back, just—“

“If you think they’re dead that easily…” Izumi exhales, grabbing Mika’s face in his hands. “Stop it. If you blow us all up, I’ll come for you, and you _know_ I won’t die. I’ll find them for you, all right? That’s why I’m here.”

Mika trembles, tears running freely down his face, and though he doesn’t nod or agree, he does let Izumi drag him out and over to Vale—a properly colored Vale, the black dye since washed from his dappled coat. “Here, up you go, stay put and don’t set my horse on fire, he’ll protect you,” Izumi grunts, hoisting Mika up into the saddle and leaving him there with a toss of his silver ponytail over his shoulder. “Morisawa, come help me get this last damned box open.” 

It takes only one blow of Chiaki’s crowbar to knock the lock off of the last box, sending it flying into the dirt. One wrench of his arms, and the metal lid goes flying. He reaches in, and helps out a very shaken-looking Makoto, hair wild, face pale. He looks around, and swallows hard at the sight of Izumi, face flushing. “I, I’m sorry, it’s all my fault, I messed up--I thought I was being brave, but I messed everything up, I’m so sorry--”

Tsumugi hoists Natsume into a proper princes carry, holding him close, too delighted that this is real to protest at all.

“Come here, idiot.” 

Izumi hauls him out easily, smoothing Makoto’s hair. “You’re the one that reached out to me, right?” he presses, a wry smile on his lips. “So I’m here now. And I’m going to take you somewhere safe, so this doesn’t happen again.” 

“Lord Tsumugi, you can ride, can’t you?” Tsukasa presses. “We brought an extra horse, for you and Milady.”

“Where are we going?” Natsume asks, his voice muffled within Tsumugi’s hair as he keeps clinging to him. 

“Back to High Harbor, for now,” Izumi says, dragging Makoto over to Vale, who, thankfully, senses that Mika does not need him pitching a fit right now, and has been perfectly still. He hauls himself up into the saddle behind Mika, who only vaguely turns into his chest, more or less listless, bordering on catatonic, and offers his hand down to Makoto to pull him up behind him. “Because no one would ever think we’d head back there…and because we have to look for Arashi, and Shu. Morisawa’s already got his men on it.” 

Somehow, Tsumugi manages to get onto the horse, holding Natsume in front of him. The horse shifts, and he grabs for the reins, holding them too-tightly. “Lord Izumi...I hate to inform you, but Captain Arashi, and Shu, they...”

“They must be very hurt! We should help them!” Chiaki says enthusiastically. 

Tsumugi winces. “I was there. We...we saw it. Eichi, he...” He looks to the side, sees Mika, and fall silent.

“We’re going to High Harbor, and we’re going to look for them,” Izumi firmly says, slinging his arm around Mika to keep him against his chest when he otherwise seems uninterested in existing. “Yuukun, just hold onto me.” 

Tsukasa climbs onto his own horse, and he hesitates, glancing over to Izumi. “Fianna’s faster,” he quietly says. “Are you sure you don’t want to give Mika to me, just in case someone catches their scent?” 

Izumi hesitates at that, but Natsume shifts in Tsumugi’s hold, fluttering a hand. “Wataru was severely injured,” he flatly says. “The Emperor’s distracted. They probably won’t send anyone right now.” 

“Valor and I will take up the rear,” Chiaki assures them, patting his horse’s neck as he circles back. “Lord Tsukasa, take the vanguard, if you please! Lord Izumi, Lord Tsumugi, please ride between us--you have the most people, we’ll protect you.”

Makoto clings to Izumi’s back, fingers tangled in his shirt. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, as quietly as possible, trying to keep Mika from hearing by whispering directly in Izumi’s ear. “The Captain, he--the Emperor blasted him off the ramparts with raw power. No human...could have survived.”

“Luckily for us, Arashi’s not entirely human,” Izumi murmurs, reaching down to pat Makoto’s knee. “Don’t talk about it right now, or Mika’ll kill us all, you know?” 

“I’m taking the shortest route possible,” Tsukasa tells them, one nudge sending Fianna briskly cantering forward. “My apologies in advance, if I’m brisk!” 

“Faster, the better,” Izumi calls after him, and Vale swiftly lurches forward, eager to follow. “Snuggle up real close, Yuukun,” he says. “Don’t think I forgot how much you suck at this.” 

“It’s not worse than being in a box,” Makoto gasps, trying to hold down his vomit, holding on for dear life. “Ugh...it isn’t...nearly as far on a horse as it was in a carriage, right? Ah...”

“If you puke on me, I’ll kill you,” Izumi threatens, hugging Mika firmly to his chest as he leans forward to better balance with someone in front and behind him. “Vale’s a smooth ride, don’t be a pussy.” 

But he pauses after he says that, and briefly glances back over his shoulder, making sure Makoto isn’t _truly_ dying. “Are you all right?” he quietly asks. “They didn’t hurt you, did they? Sorry I couldn’t get here before you got actually locked up like that.” 

Makoto shakes his head, forcing a smile. “I got the least of everyone, I think, thank you, Milord. It wasn’t anywhere near as bad as re-education in the Academy, at least. I didn’t really bother...fighting...so...”

Izumi rolls his eyes and looks forward again, letting his hair smack Makoto in the face. “Honestly…not even fighting back after you call for me like that? You better be glad I like you so much, Yuukun. What kind of Northerner are you, huh?” 

“C...call for you, Lord Izumi?” Makoto blinks.

“Yes, you idiot, call for me. How else would I have found you? Kasa was already headed after you, but I was near the Capital, you know.” 

“Lord Izumi, I didn’t.” Makoto swallows. “The Emperor...he tried to get into my head. I ignored him as long as I could...but then...I tried to tell him _no_ , and he found us. After that, I was too afraid to say anything. I--I thought about you, though.”

Izumi frowns at that, then shrugs it off, uninterested. “Well, maybe you thought hard enough that I heard you, hmm? You’re magical, after all. I took a different road because of it and ran into Kasa and Chiaki just before we found the lot of you. For the last time, it’s Izumi, or I’ll shove you off my horse.”

“I wished you’d come,” Makoto whispers, burying his face between Izumi’s shoulderblades. “I wished for you to come save me so hard...when you came, it was like you heard my prayers. But Lord Izumi--ahh, sorry, don’t shove me, please!--Izumi...training ourselves not to send any magical signals is taught in year one, I’m not _that_ terrible a student, heh...there’s really just no way you heard me? What was I saying?”

Mika stirs, sort of, but only enough to shove his head harder against Izumi’s chest, and Izumi tightens his arm around him, keeping him pressed close. “You said…exactly what you just told me. But it was like a compass, too, you know? Like you were pulling me, that’s how I knew where to go.” He shrugs. “So here I am. I mean, I was heading back to rescue you, anyway. Like hell I’d leave you lot behind. You just made it a _hell_ of a lot easier.” 

Makoto’s arms tighten, and he sighs, nuzzling in. “However it happened, I’m glad. Don’t tell your mother, she’ll probably start talking about pretending I’m a noble so we can get married, like she used to when we were little.”

“No, she wants me to marry a big, strong man that’s older than me, and definitely has a beard.” Izumi snorts, but he cracks a smile. “Not happening. You still feeling sick?”

“Not really. It’s easier when we’re close. I can sort of...feel your rhythm,” Makoto says quietly. “You should have taught me to ride a horse like this, instead of just tossing me up there. Horses don’t like me. Some Northerner, right?”

“Or maybe you just need to be on a good Northern horse, none of those skinny little racers from the Capital—“

“Fianna heard that and she’ll kick you, I swear!”

“Vale’s like a big sofa,” Izumi continues, unfazed. “If you can’t ride him, you’ll never ride. My mother’ll make fun of you, though, if you let her know you suck this much. Once we find Arashi and Shu, we’re heading back to her encampment.” 

“If she even wants me around.” Makoto’s voice is glum. “If I were your mother, I’d want me far away from you. I think I’m bad luck for you.”

“What makes you say that? I mentioned you, and she didn’t even bat an eye.” Izumi snorts, and he squeezes the arm around Mika gently. “The only bad luck that I’ve got is brought about by sitting around and waiting for other people to do the shit I want to do. So, no more of that.” 

“But nothing good ever happens around me. So...my friend Subaru said that I should find the positives in everything, and I just think...that might be a positive, right? If I find the cause of everything bad, even if it is me?”

Izumi rolls his eyes, tilting his head back. “Shut up about that,” he flatly orders. “What just happened was good, right? And you were here for it. You’re not bad luck, you’ve just had some bad shit happen. Drop it and come with me and you’ll be happier, I bet.” 

“A-all right.” Even Makoto doesn’t know why he agrees so readily when Izumi asks him for things. Something niggles at the back of his mind, something about Izumi being able to hear him, but nothing settles into sense in his mind. He sighs, and just rides along, letting his eyes close. “I’ll leave it to you, Milord.”


	31. Chapter 31

Leo has only been to the Academy a couple of times, always with either his father or a retinue of guards. He’s always been to examine, to deal out policy, or to check on the progress of some crown-ordered enchantment. He’s never been like this, blood on the hem of his cloak, standing alone on the steps, waiting to be shown up to the meeting room for an audience with the Emperor himself.

The wizard that shows him up to the receiving room is a stranger, someone old and bent. He refuses to speak--or, possibly, is unable--and shuts the door on Leo, leaving him standing alone in the room, waiting. It’s a rather sparse room, with high-backed chairs upholstered in white, white curtains, even a white table runner on the desk, all of it spotlessly bright. 

Leo stands it for about a minute, then finds himself reaching for the quill as if drawn there by compulsion, the notes of a song finding their way onto that white table runner in an elegant scrawl.

It’s several more minutes before the door opens again, this time presenting a familiar face, albeit far more tense than the last time Leo laid eyes upon him. Today, the Emperor is as draped in white as always, his platinum hair tucked behind his ears, and he looks at Leo for a long moment, expression flickering from annoyance to vague amusement.

“…Your Highness.” Eichi smiles. “We meet again.” 

The quill keeps moving. Leo doesn’t look up.

Eichi steps closer. He leans, reaching over, and snatches the quill straight out of Leo’s hold, snapping it in half. “It’s rude, you know,” he softly says, “to ignore when someone is talking to you. Especially if you’re writing on their things.” 

Leo looks up suddenly, eyes wide, flicking back and forth for a moment, blank and staring, unsure where he is. Then, suddenly, they snap into focus, and he stumbles back. “Ah! You! When did you get here! Where am I?”

“Yes, me,” Eichi dismissively says, moving to take a seat. “You’re at the Academy, Your Highness. If you forgot that you specifically requested a meeting with me, then by all means, be on your way. I’m afraid I don’t have much time to entertain you, even if you are like an adorable little squirrel.” 

_Highness_. Right, right, he’s the prince. Leo. Leo blinks, and sucks in a breath, steadying his nerves. “I forgot myself. Sorry. That hasn’t happened in a long time, I...right, sorry. Excellency, I’d like to request a meeting. Now, if possible. Ah, I’ll pay for the table runner.”

“You’ve requested it, go on.” Eichi idly pulls the runner towards him. “Hmm. If you weren’t ruining the whole ‘stark white purity’ image I’ve got going on, I might keep this.” 

_You’ve ruined your own purity image with your deeds._ Leo doesn’t say that. He straightens up, and asks bluntly, “Have you heard of the Righteous Renegade’s Quorum? Also known as the King Killer Council?”

“I can’t say that I have, but it _sounds_ interesting.” Eichi leans back, folding his hands in his lap. “Are you trying to kill the king now? How sad, I hear he’s trying his best.” 

“He had a chance to make things right. He didn’t take it.” The words taste like ash in Leo’s mouth, but he shakes his head. “It’s a euphemism. He’s planning on doing something that I, as a future king of this realm, can never condone. The Righteous Renegade’s Quorum is a lesser-known law--if I can convince the future heir--me--and the head of the Kingsguard, and the Emperor of the Academy, and the head of the Artist’s Guild all to vote unanimously, the King will be removed from power, and the heir will take legal power in a peaceful transition. Otherwise...it’s going to be a bloody massacre.”

“Ahh…courtesy of the North, hmm? I had a time avoiding their blockades. Very unpleasant people, all of them.” Eichi’s eyes lid as he watches Leo, contemplative. “What is it that you can’t condone? I’m curious. If you’re trying to become king, I do want to know that we’ll work well together in the future, of course.” 

Leo looks up, and gambles on human nature. “I’ve heard a lot of things about you,” he says softly. “I’ve heard about your iron grip, and about your absolutism. But I’ve also heard that you like gardening and spoiling your young friends. I think most people have different sides to them. I’ll give you the benefit of that belief, too. Fa--the king is planning to use a magical weapon on the countryside. It would destroy the entire Northern encampment, all the people inside, and the entire countryside around for a hundred leagues. Nothing will be able to grow there for a century.” His voice shakes on the last word. The fact that he’s able to say the words at all mean that h’s had a day to practice, and to stop choking on his own hatred.

“Oh. Yes, I know about that. It’s financed by one of the families that my favorites came from. I dislike the idea, I’ll give you that much—the result will be so ugly, I think, and I don’t want to waste the time of my wizards in trying to fix land that didn’t need to be wounded in the first place…but the North shouldn’t be there, so it’s really a difficult decision,” Eichi sighs, fluttering a hand. “All right, let me humor the idea for a moment. Assume I side with you. Assume the king is kicked neatly off the throne. How are _you_ going to deal with the North, Your Highness?”

“The heir to the North is loyal to me.” It’s better to be blunt, Leo thinks. Then he’ll never get caught in a lie. “And I understand he’ll be able to convince all of them to swear to me. Not just them, but folks from the West, which is traditionally...less than enthusiastic about their royal service. I can usher in a new age of prosperity based on peace and mutual respect, rather than cowardice and reactionary politics.” He’s practiced the speech.

“Yes, yes, those are pretty words, but I’ve heard it before.” Eichi leans to the side, chin in hand. “You’re relying quite a bit on a friend,” he quietly says, “to get things done for you. A poor choice, especially when the Sena heir is currently making things difficult for me. I dislike that. I dislike him. I like you, which is the only reason we’re still talking, but I hear he has plans to petition _you_ to try and petition _me_ for changes within the Academy. I think everything’s fine the way it is, don’t you?” 

The diplomatic way forward is obvious. Leo can’t do it. This is his last chance anyway, and war with the Academy is never going to work out. “Not really! But I’d love to have a long conversation with you about why you think it needs to be the way it is, and listen to some of the wizards about what they think--it’s important to make sure everyone is living free, in my kingdom, and not enslaved. That way, the people on the top are there because they’re the right ones for it, and not because of bad laws. You’re not afraid of someone being better than you, right?”

Eichi’s smile doesn’t fade. “No one is enslaved, Your Highness,” he lowly says. “I’m not sure where you would come up with such an idea, frankly. I’m the Emperor because I deserve to be. You should really mind your tone when discussing things you don’t understand, especially if you’re trying to make me come to your side.” 

“You asked if I was fine with everything the way it was,” Leo points out. “As king, all of your wizards would still be my citizens. I just want to be able to hear from them. I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out, once this is sorted out.”

Eichi hums underneath his breath at that, and he slowly climbs to his feet. “I’m sure you know that the crown has no say over what the Academy does,” he says, leaning over Leo’s chair, planting a hand on the arm of it. “When wizards come here, they’re mine, not yours. If they ever work for the crown, or for any of your men, they’re on loan. Leniency about this in the past…well, that’s why we’ve had wars.” He lifts a hand, tapping a finger underneath Leo’s chin to lift his head. “If you don’t like that, maybe start ignoring it…or wait for your father to die naturally.” 

Leo closes his eyes, and recites. “In the matter of employment, duties, and dwellings of all wizards, the crown shall cede responsibility to the Academy’s governing justice, and shall only intercede in the case of any citizen being denied their inalienable rights as citizen.” He smiles. “That’s all I care about, Excellency. That last part. So when I hear complaints from wizards saying they’re slaves, I will listen. But I don’t ever wish to have control of what you all do magically or whatever. We can continue to work together.”

“…You’re a terrible brat, aren’t you?” Eichi’s eyes lid. “No wizard of mine will tell you they’re a slave.” His thumb idly drags up to stroke over Leo’s lower lip. “Mm. All right. I’ll agree to your request, on one condition.” 

Leo’s eyes go wide. He trembles, trying not to step back, forcing his feet to stay put. Eichi is very tall, and Leo’s never felt shorter. He swallows hard, firming his stance, and looks up. “What’s that condition?”

“If I’m going to side with you…pretty words aren’t enough.” Eichi’s smile is sharp, and he leans down, their foreheads nearly touching. “Form a blood pact with me.” 

“I’m not killing a child,” Leo says quickly. “No matter what the cost.”

Eichi laughs, straightening again. “Oh, goodness, no, we don’t kill children here. Your Highness, you know there’s another way to form a blood pact, don’t you?” 

“I--” 

The spike of fear is something Leo doesn’t expect, and he balls his hands into fists at his side, looking up at Eichi. “I...” _But I’ve never done that with anyone but my lover,_ he wants to say, but that sounds lame. _But I don’t want to. But you scare me._

No, he wants to be the king. He can’t be afraid of something like this. 

He sucks in a breath, then nods shortly. “Just with you. Not with anyone else.”

“Of course just with me.” Eichi’s eyes gleam, and he holds out his hand. “You look nervous, Your Highness,” he softly says. “Does the idea bother you so much? It’s for your kingdom, after all.” 

Slowly, Leo shakes his head. “I just--I haven’t really...been here before. With a blood pact. Do we have to formalize the language?”

“You’ve already told me what you want from me. And I’ve made it clear what I want from you. A blood pact merely means we’re bound to those words, those thoughts…and that whatever else we decide upon in the future, or share between one another, is entirely between us. And I,” Eichi idly adds, “am the most powerful wizard in this land, _so_ , you can appreciate that.” 

If he’s going to do it, he’s going to _do it._ Leo takes a small step forward, reaching up to let his hand rest against Eichi’s chest. His heart thuds, but with none of the exciting warmth he ever feels when he and Izumi are this close. Eichi is beautiful, but this is just...cold. “When I was young and I saw you for the first time,” he whispers, “I thought you were from the moon.”

Eichi grabs at that hand, using it to yank Leo forward, flush against him. “And you look like you were kissed by some sliver of twilight that caught on fire,” he says, his other hand dragging back through Leo’s hair, pulling free the tie that binds it in short order. “You’re shaking, Your Highness.” His lips twitch. “That’s very cute. And here I thought you had done this before.”

“I’ve never...formed a blood pact before,” Leo says truthfully, hands trembling as he squeezes Eichi’s. Maybe this won’t be too bad. The guilt in his heart throbs. Izumi--no, he _can’t_ think of Izumi right now, not even to feel guilty. “What do I have to do?”

“Nothing, except…mm, let me have you.”

Fortunately, the ink is already dry on Leo’s previous scribblings. It doesn’t smear when Eichi easily shoves Leo back against the edge of the table, further wrinkling the table runner. He leans over him, fingertips brushing along his throat back through his hair to push it out of the way, and little, sparkling motes of golden light follow his touch. “You’ve done that, haven’t you?” he breathes, his eyes glowing, his thigh easily shoving Leo’s apart. “People talk, Your Highness—especially to me.” 

“People also talk about you, Excellency,” Leo says softly, refusing to rise to the bait, even as he lets himself be pushed back, pulse thudding in his throat. He reaches back, resting on his elbows, fighting down the stupid urge to clench his thighs shut, and looks up. “But I’m kind enough not to bring that up when we’re like this.”

“Do they? Ooh, tell me what they’ve said.” Eichi’s hand slides down Leo’s chest, methodically unlacing, unclasping, swiftly revealing skin. “Hmm…I always thought you were a bit paler than this,” he murmurs, idly thumbing the thin, white scar at the base of Leo’s throat. “I suppose all that time on the road changed that.” 

“Somehow…I think you’ve gotten a few new freckles. How, it’s still winter.” 

_The memory of Izumi’s words brings tears to Leo’s eyes, and he looks away, clenching his jaw. “Do you just...need to do it? Or do I need to just...let you?”_

Izumi over him, Izumi pressing him down, Izumi kissing his jaw, Izumi sliding up between his thighs. Maybe if he closes his eyes and thinks about Izumi, this will be easy.

_“If you aren’t willing, that makes this much more difficult on my part.”_

Eichi’s mouth his hot on his neck, sucking on the uneven thud of Leo’s pulse before his hand slides down, grabbing at the laces of his breeches, yanking them open. “If you don’t want it, then I have to try _so_ much harder to make this blood pact work,” he sighs. “And if it fails…then we’re back at square one, aren’t we?” 

“I didn’t know they could fail.” 

No matter what, I won’t do this again.

_Setting his jaw with determination, Leo reaches up and strokes Eichi’s long pale neck, thinking back to the first time they’d met. Eichi had looked like an angel, like he’d descended from the moon with the light of the stars still in his eyes. He lets his head fall back, sucking in a breath through his nose as he feels his cock start to fill. “You’re an exceptional being,” he whispers, back arching, a little moan escaping. “Like you could breathe moonlight into my lungs.”_

“Let’s try it.”

Eichi surges forward, grabbing Leo’s chin in one hand, dragging his face up to kiss him. He catches his mouth just when Leo’s lips part for breath, and his tongue shoves past them, kissing him hard, sucking his tongue as he shoves apart Leo’s thighs to better stand between them. With every touch of his fingers and lips to Leo’s skin, tiny, golden lights sink into him, disappearing as quickly as they appear. “You’re as warm as the sun,” he breathes, drawing back only enough to catch his own breath, his cheeks flushed, pupils dilated as his hips twitch forward, letting the line of his cock press and rub between Leo’s legs. “I wanted you, the second I saw you.” 

_I was no more than seven,_ Leo wants to protest, but he just shivers, thighs trying automatically to draw together, and it just makes it feel as if he’s wrapping them around Eichi’s waist. He gasps, the light sinking into him making him arch, making his breath taste like the sun, little rivulets of power running through his veins. “And you feel like porcelain,” he groans, leaning up for another kiss, letting his body react without conscious direction.

It’s easy to cover Leo with his body, to fist a hand into his hair and drag him up into another, filthy kiss. Eichi groans against his mouth, a low, rumbling sound as he grinds down, savoring the way that Leo’s legs tighten around his waist, no matter the reason. “If you had a shred of magic in you,” he breathes, eyes glittering, as he ruts forward, just to feel the way Leo arches up against him, “I’d keep you here forever. You’re my favorite type, you know?” 

Leo opens his mouth, but all that comes out is a squeak, followed by a hitching breath, then a whine. The hard line of Eichi’s cock is larger than he’d expected, larger than Izumi’s, and Leo feels himself start to sweat, skin tightening, pleasure tingling up his spine. “Excellency,” he whispers, hands lacing behind Eichi’s head, his cock flushing harder with every grind. “Please, I--I want you to...”

Eichi’s own breath catches in his throat, and his laugh is a ragged one as he yanks open his own robes first, untying the laces underneath to easily pull his cock free. “ _Now_ you’re being awfully sweet,” he murmurs, tugging one of Leo’s hands down and pressing it against his cock. He sucks in a sharp breath, sliding forward against that touch as his mouth drags to Leo’s neck, his teeth nipping into soft skin. “Say it,” he lowly orders. “Tell me what you want.” 

“It’s big,” Leo whispers, the first thing that pops into his mind. His hand curls, and he strokes the hard length from base to tip, looking down and seeing it between his thighs. He licks his lips, chest heaving, and tries to fumble for words. “I want you to...complete the pact. In me.”

Eichi’s lips part, something like a growl caught in his throat as he bends, catching Leo’s mouth in a last, possessive kiss, little sparks of light flickering between their lips as he draws back. “After this,” he says, “you’ll never want anything else.” 

He pulls back, dislodging Leo’s touch, and deftly flips him. His chest heaves at the sight, and he drags a hand down Leo’s back, keeping him pressed down against the table as he pulls Leo’s breeches down, letting them pool to the floor around his ankles. Eichi idly grabs a pouch off of Leo’s own belt, pulling out a vial of oil that he tips into the palm of his hand, dragging it down the length of his cock. “Relax, Your Highness,” he breathes, the head of his cock catching against Leo’s hole. It looks far too large to fit inside, but Eichi doesn’t care, and he keeps a hand between Leo’s shoulders, holding him down when he shoves forward, a breathless groan escaping his throat at the resistance, the tight stretch around him before the head finally sinks inside, spreading Leo impossibly wide. “Mnn…there, ahh, you’re even hotter _inside_ …” 

Leo bites his lip so hard he tastes blood. This part is different--Izumi has always taken great care to prepare him, and he’s _tense_. He doesn’t remember it hurting like this even the first time, and he lets out a pained whimper, clutching at the desk, trying not to let the pain make him tense up even more. Eichi is _big_ , feels bigger, and the oil can only do so much. His erection flags, softening with every too-thick thrust into his body. “It’s--go slow, please, just for a moment, please, I’m not--”

“Shh, just take a deep breath…” 

Leo is so tight around him that it aches, and Eichi’s breath stutters, his eyes fluttering as he barely resists the urge to shove in to the hilt. Instead, he falls back into his chair, dragging Leo with him into his lap, mouth on his neck and hands sliding up to his nipples, pinching, pulling them as he tugs him down slowly onto his cock. “It’ll fit,” he promises, panting into Leo’s neck. “You want to be good, don’t you?” 

Eichi’s fingers feel so good, so cool on his nipples, that for a moment Leo really _does_ think it’s Izumi. He groans, leaning back against Eichi’s chest, hands back on Eichi’s thighs as he presses back, trying to breath. He’s not entirely certain what fantasy Eichi is playing out, but it’s thick, intrusive, far too much as it stretches him so wide his eyes leak tears. “I’m trying,” he whines, back arching as he grinds down, gasping for breath. “It’s--you’re so--ahh, you’re--”

“T-there you go,” Eichi gasps, his face buried into Leo’s hair, his hips rolling up harder, deeper, until he hears skin slap and stick together. It’s a lewd, wet sound, and he groans, his fingers pinching Leo’s nipples, thumbing over the abused nubs as he nuzzles into the sweaty skin of Leo’s neck. “There,” he whispers, dragging one hand down, stroking down Leo’s stomach, down to where his fingers can grab at a slender hip and pull him down again into his next thrust up into him. “It’s all inside. You’re being so good for me, aren’t you, taking all of it?” He nudges Leo’s hair aside, sucking on the side of his neck as he rocks up slower now, savoring that tight, aching slide when Leo is still so tight around him, but still…it’s easier now, and flickering, golden sparks of light flutter from his fingertips wherever they drag over Leo’s skin. “Who says you have to be king?” he murmurs. “You can just…stay here, like this, all day, and be my toy.” 

Maybe it’s the magic. Maybe it’s the heat. Maybe it’s the thick pulse of Eichi’s cock inside of him that makes the offer so appealing for a moment, makes his cock ache, makes him groan as Leo rocks down onto Eich’s cock. Leo would love to believe it’s any of those things that makes him gemstone-hard, that makes his skin flush as he grinds, but he knows the truth. The truth is, it’s those words getting to him, the idea of being kept in Eichi’s office, on his lap as a pretty pet, pampered and cared for and only useful for how well he keeps the Emperor’s cock warm. The idea is a relief, after being told how important he is for so long, after having every decision in the world placed on his shoulders--should he avenge Izumi? should he kill his father? should he side with High Harbor, or the North, or the West? should he outlaw prostitution in the Sandlands, fishing on the beach, child-snatching by wizards? If he turns men into criminals, who will feed their families?--it sounds nice to just lay back, relax, and let someone else make all the choices. He relaxes, and suddenly the cock in his ass feels a hundred times better, stroking him in all the right places, letting him ease back. “Ah...Excellency...I...I want you to...to...”

Feeling the way Leo relaxes about him makes Eichi thrust up harder, muffling a low groan into his shoulder. Even as small as Leo is, as large as his cock is, it somehow nestles inside of him easily now, and Eichi takes his time to rub up inside of him, finding the angle that feels best not only for himself, but that makes Leo squirm and squeak. “You want me to?” he murmurs, gently rubbing his thumb over one of Leo’s nipples, feeling Leo’s pulse throbbing through it. “Then I’ll just keep you right here. You…can just wait in here for me, stay on a leash underneath my desk until I need you, and be my little pet. You like that idea, don’t you, Your Highness?” He shifts, shoving up harder with a breathless, ragged grunt. “Don’t you, _Leo?_ ” 

If he had a year, Leo doesn’t think he could come up with a reason for why that makes him come that doesn’t embarrass him. Worse is the way it happens--he feels Eichi rock up into him perfectly, hears those sinful words in his ear, feels those cool fingers tug at him, and he can _see the desk_ that Eichi wants to keep him under, wants to keep him there to service and obey. One more rock, and he cries out, painting the side of the desk, another pulse splattering over his stomach, his whole body trembling. He pants, shallow breaths not enough, and the thick heat in him throbs so hard he almost comes again right away, cheeks flushed a deep, embarrassed red.

Eichi muffles his voice by biting into Leo’s shoulder. His fingers grab at Leo’s hips, squeezing, his nails digging in, pulling him down into his cock hard as he ruts up once, maybe twice more before he comes with a long, aching pulse. He groans, his eyes squeezing shut as he spills, _seeing_ the magic even behind closed eyes, every last jerk of his hips making him hold Leo tighter. 

His cock gives another last, overstimulated throb, and Eichi shivers, dragging a hand up Leo’s stomach, through the mess splattered there, and shoves a pair of his fingers into Leo’s mouth, twisting them against his tongue. “Maybe I should just keep you here,” he breathlessly says against Leo’s neck. “I’ll make that blood pact stronger by feeding you my cock next.” 

Leo lets out a wet, choked noise, tears streaming down his face as Eichi’s cock drags out a few last spurts from his cock, dripping down the shaft. A thin trickle of drool drips from his chin, and he shivers, arms wrapped around himself as he tries to stop shaking. “Is it...” His mind is too cloudy for any other words, and he just tips backward, resting his head back against Eichi’s shoulder, then just sighs loudly.

Eichi slings an arm around Leo’s waist, pulling him back into his chest. The last, glittery little orbs of light filter their way into Leo’s limbs. “That’s a good boy,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of Leo’s head, his fingers carefully combing Leo’s sweaty hair back from his face. “All done. Mm, you’re all mine now, isn’t that nice.” 

“And you’ll...keep to your word.” Leo clings to that, in a sea of hazy emotions and feelings. “You’ll join the quorum. So you’re mine, too. Ah, I’m so full, please help me--”

“Yes, yes, I’ll join you…ahh, your father is certainly going to have a fit, isn’t he?” Eichi laughs, shifting underneath Leo, contemplative. “You don’t like it in there? Mmn, I was just thinking it might be fun to go once more before I let you go…” 

Leo lets out a half-pained little whine, grabbing the edge of the desk to pull himself up. He feels liquid start to slide down his leg, and grimaces. “Thank you, that’s...enough for now, I think.” _Even if it’s been an achingly long time since I’ve come that hard._

Eichi’s expression shifts to amusement, and he helps Leo up the rest of the way before pulling out a handkerchief and casually offering it to him. “Well, then,” he hums, leaning back and tucking himself back into his robes. “You might as well be on your way, Leo. Call me, when you’re ready to speak to your father and dump him on his arse.”

“I have two more people to convince first.” Leo takes the handkerchief, and starts to mop himself up, wincing. “Then I’ll be back, with the contract.” He pauses, then adds, “Thank you, Excellency. I look forward to working with you in the future.”

“Mention my name to the head of the Artist’s Guild, and he’ll agree.” Eichi leans back contently in his chair, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “Don’t mention my name to the captain of the Kingsguard, and he’ll probably agree. Bold of you, to come to me first. I like that.” 

“If I could convince you,” Leo says frankly, pulling up his trousers, “I can convince everyone. And if not, it wouldn’t matter.”

Eichi beams. “Fair enough! Ah, you are a lovely creature, aren’t you.” He runs a finger down Leo’s spine, sighing. “If you change your mind, my office awaits.” 

Leo firmly strangles the part of his mind that sort of wants to drop to his knees right now. His face flushes, and he nods, then turns, marching smartly out the door, headed towards the Merchant and Artist’s Guild house.


	32. Chapter 32

“Shuuu.”

Shu. Wake up, love.

_“Shuuu…ahh…Shu, you can’t be dead…mm…I know you aren’t, I can hear your blood going bubble…bubble…”_

Shu, you did so well, you worked so hard, I know, but you have to wake up. 

_Cool, wet hands smooth down Shu’s face, pushing his hair gently out of his face. “Shu…don’t make me…take you back to the sea…”_

I’m waiting for you. Don’t worry about me, just wake up.

_Long, startling blue hair tumbles down over damp shoulders, and strangely green eyes peer down into Shu’s face, narrowing in observation. “He’s definitely…alive…hmm…Shu…are you listening to me…?”_

Slowly, grasping at that voice in his mind more than the voice in front of him, Shu fumbles his way towards wakefulness. The draught he’d taken had been enough, combined with his faked “final strike,” to convince just about everyone that he was truly dead, especially as he hovered at the verge of actual death for a few long days. It had necessitated the slow brewing of a potion few humans know about, hidden behind his other potion in a much smaller cauldron, stashed away for the exact right moment. It had also necessitated finding his soul a place to rest outside his own body, which was even more difficult--but manageable, and no one would likely check a little figurine of a fluffy dog stashed in his pocket. 

But now, he claws his way out, shattering the statue as he draws in a breath. He opens his eyes, sees a familiar face, and breathes out. “Kanata, my friend. Then I must be safe.”

Kanata sighs out a long, relieved breath, a pleased smile slowly curling his lips. “You were thrown…into the sea,” he explains, pushing his hair back over his shoulders. The sound of the ocean isn’t far from them, in fact; it laps slowly and shallowly at the dry, elevated rock that Shu rests upon. In the shallow water, however, Kanata remains, partially submerged from the waist down. “I pulled you from it…and the human, Chiaki’s friend…” 

“I don’t have the energy to think about who that is right now,” Shu says wearily, brushing wet hair out of his face. “But thank you. One moment.”

He closes his eyes, and breathes. 

My lord. I’m here, I’m awake. What are your orders?

_There you are. Rest for now, love; Wataru has been injured severely thanks to you, and the Emperor has stilled his advances and focused elsewhere. Mika, Tsumugi, Natsume, Makoto; they’re all safe._

_“Ah,” Kanata says, staring up at the ceiling of the cave, where condensed water drips slowly down onto them. “I hope Rei is well. Tell him…his doggie was here, several days ago…to check in…but now…he, too…is gone…”_

Your puppy was here to check, but he’s gone now, my lord. I am...very tired. I fear that my body may have been pushed beyond its limits at last. Ah, but don’t worry, I’ll recover with time. What of you? Have those blockheads rescued you yet, or must I do everything myself?

_Shu wipes a droplet of water from his face with distaste. “How far from shore are we? Ah, I despise the magic-canceling properties of this ocean that you love so much, the only thing I can do out here is contact Rei.”_

“Not…too far,” Kanata languidly, happily says, and below the surface of the water, something heavily scaled in brilliant, pearlescent turquoise and green swishes. “Enough for safety.”

He dives below the water again, disappearing, swimming as swiftly as any fish to another raised rock, presumably to check in on the other human he has rescued. 

Rest. Please don’t push yourself again, now isn’t the time. If those ‘blockheads’, as you call them, have any sense, they’re circling back to retrieve you. I’m not in need of any rescuing yet. The Emperor has found something new to focus on, as I’ve said. 

_Shu sends a soothing tendril of energy, a pulse of healing affection along their bond. You rest too, my lord. You sound tired. Tired, and hiding it. I know that voice._

Hardly. Talking to you rejuvenates me. 

_“Ahh…if you won’t wake up…into the healing waters you go~…”_

A splash follows those words, and Kanata gently pokes and prods at his other prize, keeping his head above water, but that’s about it, to be honest. “Wataru didn’t think about that, did he…silly, silly…this whole sea is mine, mine…”

By the way, about Ritsu…please let me know if you hear from him. I hope he’s smart enough to stay far away from the Academy, but…

_Of course, my lord. I’ll keep both eyes open, and both ears as well. Be safe, or I’ll worry to death. This is your warning._

_With those teasing words, Shu sets the connection aside, opening his eyes properly on the real world. They fix upon the blond, damp head of Captain Arashi, whose entire left side looks like a single mottled bruise mixed with rotten meat. Shu winces, and asks Kanata, “How could he possibly be alive? What do you think he is?”_

“Soooomething…his heart is beating, listen…you can hear it…” 

Kanata, instead of letting Shu do just that, drags Arashi further underneath the water, which now glows as much as the glittery scales of his tail do underneath the slowly lapping waves. He hums, stroking Arashi’s hair, long, sharp nails careful not to slice for once. “I can help him, in the water…I helped you, too.” His eyes lid, brilliantly, oddly too-bright as he looks to Shu. “How is Rei? The Emperor…won’t come for us again, I think, not for a time…you scared him…” 

“Good.” Shu leans his head back, so weary that it feels as if he can’t keep it up on his neck any longer. “Rei is enduring. I’ll get him out eventually. Ah, at least I can still do this much, and send Wataru running with his wings between his legs. Doubtless his Emperor will sew him a new pair eventually, but that much gossamer isn’t easy to come by.” His eyes trace over Arashi’s drifting hair. _Mika, what did you fall in love with?_

“If you come back into the water…Shu…it might feel nice…” Kanata hums, cradling Arashi against him as if he’s some kind of disturbing doll. “The sea is good. _My_ sea…is the best. Do you remember…when Wataru used to be…so different. He was so sad, but now…” He trails off. “Are you hungry?” he then asks suddenly, and his hand reaches out into the shallows, reemerging with a wriggling silver fish caught in his grasp. “You should feed…”

“I will throw up if you put that near me,” Shu says wearily, and he rolls, flopping into the water. It does ease his aches and pains, relieving some of his weariness, and he sighs. “He’s too big to be a good doll, you know. They should be small and lovely. What’s a fish you like? I’ll make you one, when I’m feeling better.”

Kanata tosses the fish in the air, and lunges for it, sucking it down in one, wiggly bite. “I like…eels,” he says, wiggling his now empty fingers. “Those are very good…and long…”

Kanata’s eyes lid, and his long, fish-like tail curls, the filamentous, seaweed-like ends of his fins of it swaying slowly back and forth with the tides. “If you need me…I’ll come…and fight…with all of you,” he softly says. “But on the land…mm…I’m not sure my powers hold the same strength they used to.” 

Shu’s smile is wry. “I feel the same way,” he says softly. “But I have no ocean to retreat to. Just stay here for the moment, I wouldn’t want to force you to fight against Wataru. It pains me enough to have to do it.”

“But you did. And…you did more…than any of us could have, I think…” Kanata tilts his head. “You…should scold Rei more. You can. He’s yours.”

“I don’t want to scold him. If I can do this...well.” Shu flaps a hand, tired again, and lets his fingers curl in Arashi’s hair. He sends out as much magic as he can, surrounded by the ocean as he is, in an attempt to soothe some of the pain the man must be in. “Just keep praising my skills, that and watching my spells take form is as good as a night’s rest and a full meal to me.”

“But if you scolded him more…maybe he’d be better behaved…”

Kanata’s head jerks up abruptly, eyes narrowed at a sound that only he seems to hear. “Hold him, don’t let his head go under the water,” he says, pushing Arashi into Shu’s grasp before he dives into the shallows, disappearing as swiftly as any fish would into the deeper water that lies beyond. 

He reemerges outside of the cave, hair trailing behind him as he peers up onto the bluffs. _Chiaaaakiiiiiii._ Even if humans can’t explicitly hear these kinds of things, it’s usually enough to give them a nudge in the right direction…and Kanata has known Chiaki for quite awhile, after all. 

Not five minutes later, Chiaki rides into view on Valor’s back, eyes scanning the water for any sign of Kanata. He sights, and rides down the bluffs, face split in one of his beaming grins. “Kanata! You look well! Wait for me!”

He swings off Valor’s back, quickly hobbling him, then wading into the ocean, uncaring of his clothing, hurrying to Kanata’s side. “Things are quite crazy right now! But no worries, I’ll keep the land safe if you keep the sea the same, haha!”

Kanata, without hesitation, hauls Chiaki further into the water with him. “I…have your friend,” he says, clutching at Chiaki’s hands. “And…my friend…but…neither of them should leave the water right now, it’s safe…and helping…and one of them is _very_ …not good. I’m not sure how long even I can…keep him.” 

“Friends are good to have,” Chiaki assures Kanata, squeezing his hands. “Thank you! I have friends, too. Together, we’ll keep this realm safe.”

“Chiaki. I’m going to drown you…if you don’t listen to me.” 

“I’m good at holding my breath, haha! Remember last time? When we made love in the cave?”

Kanata’s lips purse, and he grabs Chiaki’s arm, dragging him through the water towards the cave in question. Sometimes, it’s just better to show him, rather than trying to explain things to him when they’re both rather terrible at it. 

His tail lashes slowly, curling partially around Chiaki’s leg once they make it to shallower water. “Look,” he says, gesturing broadly to Shu and Arashi. “I found them. One mine, one yours. Yours…can’t come out of the water, or he’ll die…maybe. Did you find the healer-snake? Go get him.”

“I did find him! Ah, I’m sure they’ll be very relieved to know that their friends are all right. I’m hugging you now!” True to his word, Chiaki sweeps Kanata up into a powerful hug, ignoring his scales. “If you take me back to the beach, I’ll go fetch him!”

Kanata almost lets him be distracted by Chiaki’s warmth, but that only lasts for a moment. Feeling the worryingly delicate life in his seas is much easier when Chiaki is around, for whatever reason, and so he wriggles his way free, snatches him by the arm again, and starts pulling him back to shore. “Go,” he orders, giving him a firm push once they reach shallower water. “I’m…going to go guard them.” And he disappears with a flip of his tail, blending in with the blue of the ocean.

Chiaki sighs after him for a moment. _How beautiful._ Then he catches his horse, and rides back up to the road, waving an arm at Izumi. “Hoo! Come down here, Izumi!”

“What are you doing all the way down there?” Izumi snaps, spurring Vale forward over the steep slope of the bluffs down to the beach. Chiaki, it turns out, is at least as tireless in searching as he is. That’s the one compliment he can give the man when he’s personally exhausted and running on fumes. “Please tell me you found something.” _I’m starting to get nervous about leaving Tsukasa and Tsumugi with too much responsibility._

“We’ll have to swim,” Chiaki announces, this time finding a large driftwood log and tying Valor’s reins to it. “Ready?”

“No, I’m not ready. Where the hell am I swimming to?” 

“Let’s go!” Chiaki insists, and grabs Izumi’s hand, heading for the water. “There’s no time to waste!”

“Is this how you regularly command your men?” Izumi demands, leaving Vale untethered, convinced he’ll just eat seaweed and remain unmoving. “Just by dragging them places? Did you find them or something? Gods, you make me want to strangle you.” 

“It’s not a long swim,” Chiaki promises. “I won’t let you drown! I think I know where we’re supposed to go!” He starts to swim, thinking as hard as he can, _Kanata! I’m coming!_

Good boy, Chiaki…is a good boy.

_“I know how to swim, you dolt, just answer my—ugh, forget it!”_

Izumi jumps in after him, almost relieved at the burst of cold. Chiaki does seem to have a specific path in mind, and when he starts to slow, it’s in front of a cave, hidden within the shadows of the bluffs, with the entrance obscured by higher waters. 

Once inside, he comes up for a full, long drought of air, raking his wet bangs back from his face, and the sight makes him freeze. “Shu?” Immediately, he swims faster towards the shallows, before they come not even to his waist, and—“Fuck. Arashi. Give him to me, right now, right _now_.” 

“Good,” Kanata sighs, slowly pulling himself up to rest on a water-smoothed rock, picking bits of clinging seaweed from his tail. “Chiaki…thank you, you were fast…” 

“A real hero will always come when you call,” Chiaki assures Kanata, reaching up to squeeze Kanata’s shoulder. He grimaces at the sight of Arashi, who looks far more like a corpse than a hundred corpses he’s seen. “Are you sure he’s still alive?”

“He’s alive,” Shu confirms, helping to steer Arashi’s floating body over towards Izumi. “There’s nothing I could do but dull the pain. Obviously! I’m not a healer.”

“The water…keeps him in stasis…” Kanata says. “So don’t…pull him out.”

Izumi says nothing, already too focused in pulling Arashi over to him. He sucks in a sharp breath as he looks his friend over— _don’t panic, don’t panic, just fix him—_ and sets himself to work on the most egregious, most obvious of injuries of first. Maybe if he starts there, maybe…

“I think,” Kanata says conversationally, blinking large eyes at Shu, “that he isn’t human. Maybe…his great…great…great…great…great grandparent…was something…” 

“Or he was blessed as a child by something really powerful,” Shu agrees wearily. “Either way...lucky for him. Can you do it, Izumi? Kanata and I can only keep him alive like that for so long.”

“Stop talking to me.”

“He’s a rude child,” Kanata says, unfazed. “Ice-bred always are…I knew an ice drake once…that stole all my fish.”

Arashi takes a wet, ragged breath, and Izumi sucks in a nervous one of his own, trying to work even faster. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, eyes lidded as he focuses, keeping his hands on Arashi’s chest. The dark, heavy bruising already is gone, with the ripped, torn skin soon to follow. His head aches a little more with every single thing that heals, but whatever; he can pass out _after_ this is finished. 

Arashi’s eyes flutter for the first time, confused and curiously fuzzy. “I...zu...mi?” he asks softly, on a whisper of breath through lungs that feel shredded.

“Don’t talk, just stay still.” Izumi’s vision blurs, the sheer amount of energy it seems to take to heal this much, this fast making him sweat and tremble. “I’ve got you,” he dazedly promises, watching shredded flesh mend underneath his fingertips. That’s not even _counting_ what must be patching together inside. That has always taken more effort. “And I’ve got…Mika..he’s f-fine, so just relax, okay?” 

Arashi sighs, shudders, and his eyes close again, the tension smoothing out of his face.

Shu puts a hand on Izumi’s shoulder, lips moving. “I’m trying something,” he mutters, and the next second, sends a questing tendril of magical energy, a ‘loan,’ over to Izumi. “Can you feel that? I have no idea, since you’re not a wizard, but you’re doing deliberate magic, so perhaps...”

“That…that helps, yes, thank you,” Izumi murmurs, though his focus doesn’t waver. His legs still shake, every ache and pain he’d felt before intensified times twenty, but at least he isn’t about to pass out. Now is _not_ the time for that. 

“Is he half?” Kanata asks curiously, leaning over to watch. “I’ve never seen any drakes that were half…only…very diluted blood…or full blood. Half drakes…heal like full ones…I suppose…”

“Yes, thanks, please don’t drip on me right now.”

“He’s half,” Shu confirms wearily, sending as much energy as he can spare, only breaking off the link when he nearly falls over. “Strong. His father was likely very old, and very powerful. No idea what the Captain is, though.”

“Gods, I’ve always said he wasn’t human,” Izumi bemoans. “But I was _joking_ …”

“I can smell it,” Kanata hums. “He’s…something.” 

“So helpful.” Izumi’s fingers splay over Arashi’s chest, feeling the way his lungs expand _far_ more normally now, and he trembles again, pulling back after a few more minutes. “That’s…that’s all I can do right now,” he says, wiping sweat off of his already damp forehead. “Most of it’s done, he’s not going to die. I’ll…I’ll finish it up once we’re out of here. I need to eat a whole cake.” Tsukasa is on to something when it comes to shoveling sweets into his mouth.

“Usually I’d say that’s disgusting, but...same.” Shu slumps over, hand trailing in the water from sheer inability to lift his arm. “Any kind of bread, really. Flaky rolls would be best, but...”

“I know a baker on Cobalt Street that has the best sweet rolls in the country,” Chiaki offers. “When we get back to shore, I can get a whole tray of them for you two.”

“You should eat a fish.”

“I’m not going to do that.” Izumi catches hold of Shu’s arm, helping him over to Chiaki. “Carry him back, would you?” Izumi pauses, actually _looking_ at Kanata for the first time, at his long, fish-like tail in the place of legs, and the glittering scales that extend beyond it in patches on his chest and arms and neck. “And, ah…um…”

“Kanata,” Kanata introduces himself with a smile, his tail flipping slowly in the water. “I’ll take…Chiaki’s friend back…and you, half-drake.”

“Don’t call me that. Izumi, that’s my name. I can swim, thank you—“

“No. You hold Chiaki’s friend, and hold onto me.”

“You know, whatever, fine,” Izumi exhales, pulling Arashi firmly into his arms and dog-paddling his way over to Kanata. 

“I like to think of myself as a strong swimmer,” Chiaki says with a grin, helping Shu climb onto his back as he starts swimming. “But then I went swimming with Kanata! He is a much stronger and faster swimmer!”

“You’re very tiring, even though you have a wonderful body,” Shu says with a sigh, clinging to Chiaki’s neck from behind.

“I feel the exact same way,” Izumi calls after him wearily, holding onto Arashi as well as he can, his other arm looped about Kanata’s neck. “Oh. Your scales, they’re…they’re sort of…soft?” 

“We’re going,” Kanata sing-songs, and moves as swiftly as any fish through water—no, swifter, with enough strength behind every swish of his tail to propel him far ahead of Chiaki.

It’s actually a terrifying ride, and Izumi craves land. He pries himself away once they’re in the shallows, pulling Arashi with him, and nearly passes out the second he hits the shore, panting as he stares up at the sky. “I’m a land snake,” he groans. “Leave me on the sand.” 

“You’re completely weak when it comes to water, interesting,” Shu says, though he looks rather green in the gills himself, stumbling off of Chiaki’s back to try and catch his footing. “Ah, can someone find me a cup? I need to talk more clearly to my lord.” 

“There will be one on Cobalt Street, I’m sure,” Chiaki assures him. “At the bakery, if not somewhere else. Kanata, are you all right?”

“I’m not completely weak! I love the water, but like—fresh water, without waves, without salt, without riding on the back of—of—him!” 

“Mm, I’m fine,” Kanata reassures him, his tail flipping slowly in the water. “If you need me…I’m here…” His eyes lid, and he crooks a finger. “Chiaki. One second.” 

“Ah, need a recharge?” Chiaki asks knowingly. He steps forward, shoes digging into the sand, and takes Kanata into his arms, dipping him low and kissing him hard.

Kanata exhales a low, content noise, draping his arms around Chiaki’s neck, his long nails curling slowly against his back as his tail flaps gently in the water. “Good recharge,” he murmurs, his eyes lidded when he finally draws back, petting Chiaki’s wet hair with equally damp fingers. “Chiaki…don’t forget me, okay?”

_Ah. So it’s like that._ Izumi coughs out a bit of seawater and slowly stumbles to his feet, grabbing Vale before he can start meandering close enough to chew on Arashi’s hair. “Right, I’m getting him back to the estate, where I’m certain there are _also_ cups,” he mutters. “Morisawa, when you’re done, help me get Arashi onto my horse, my arms are all wobbly.” 

“Where do I lift him by?” Chiaki asks, thoroughly damp and halfway tousled. “I don’t want to hurt him, and he’s still so...raw looking.”

“He’s awake,” Arashi mutters, struggling to stand. His teeth are gritted against pain, and he manages to stand, even though tears stream freely from his eyes. “I’m fine, where’s Mika? Where’s my horse, where’s Mika?”

“Mika is at the estate,” Shu says with a sigh. He flaps a hand, stumbling forward to rest against Izumi’s evil horse. “Sorry. I can’t help with the pain anymore, I need my lord, or a bed.”

“Stop trying to stand, you idiot,” Izumi frets, and in his haste, just grabs Arashi by the arms to better steady him. Healing seems rather beyond him at the moment, but he tries, though more successful is probably what Leo always used to call the ‘wintermint’ effect, which is good for numbing pain, if nothing else. “Mika is fine, I swear, I took care of him. I’ll finish fixing you, but I’ve _got_ to eat something, so let’s just get you on Vale and we’ll go and do that, okay? Morisawa, just…help Shu onto your horse so we can get him back to the estate, too, if you would. Gods, thank you, Vale, for not eating Shu right now…” 

Arashi manages to get onto Vale by sheer willpower, swaying in his seat as he leans against Izumi. The pain is almost bad enough that he throws up, but he chokes it down. His body needs all the calories he can get for energy. “How bad was it?” he asks quietly. “I just remember the Emperor saying something, and laughing, and reaching out to hit me, and then...the ocean...”

“If you keep holding onto me, I’ll keep trying to numb you as much as I can,” Izumi murmurs, picking up Vale’s reins and turning him carefully for the estate. At least Vale seems to understand his rather precarious cargo, and picks his way as gingerly as he ever has across the beach and back up the bluffs. “You want the badass answer?” he says with a ragged laugh. “You should be _beyond_ dead right now.” 

Arashi grimaces. “I don’t even want to know how bad it looked. Ah, that feels...really good, thank you. Shit, I did a good thing the day I grabbed you for my army, didn’t I?”

“Don’t worry, your face doesn’t look bad,” Izumi reassures him, sparing a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure that Chiaki is following before turning down the road that leads to the back of the estate. The front is still in disrepair, blocked off by guardsmen, and while Izumi has some reservations about still staying here, it seems safe enough, with the Emperor apparently being as distracted as he is right now. Shu must’ve _really_ done a number on that other Nightcloak. “And yes, you did. I think I’m pretty great, too, thanks.” 

Once around to the back gate, Izumi waves a hand to the guards, and they pull the gate open enough for him to walk Vale through it. “Right—when I get down, just keep a hold on my hand, and the numbing stuff won’t stop,” he says, twisting around to grab one of Arashi’s hands already. “And as soon as I eat, I can keep fixing you up. I _think_ it’s just some minor internal stuff now…and a lot of superficial things, judging by the way you’re moving, but…” 

Arashi gives him the ghost of a smile. “I’d rather keep hearing my bones crunch when I move than have people think I _like_ you, no thanks.” Which is a much ruder and less embarrassing way of urging, _take care of yourself first, idiot._ “But where’s Mika? Where’s my Mika, I need to see him.” He lets go of Izumi’s hand, swaying slightly as the pain takes hold. He breathes in, breathes out. _I acknowledge you,_ he thinks at the pain. _I’m not pushing you away, I swear. I’m just going to keep doing my thing while you do yours, by warning me I’m being dumb again._

It usually works, and does now, letting Arashi at least move his body without feeling like pain is stealing his will to live. He swings down from Vale’s back, landing hard, and looking around the courtyard through blurry eyes.

“If you don’t stop being stubborn, you’re not going to _live_ to see him, you ass!”

Izumi lands next to him, exasperated, and shoves Vale’s reins into the hand of the trembling stableboy before grabbing Arashi by the arm. “Just come with me.” 

Neither of them are moving terribly fast, but Izumi makes quick enough work of the halls. “I have him in the room I was staying in,” he admits. “Because I thought…I don’t know, being in the one you two had would freak him out. He’s pretty…out of it, are you sure you don’t want me to finish with you first?” 

“If I thought you could heal a black eye right now, I’d take you up on it,” Arashi says with a gasp, somehow managing to follow along. “You obviously need food and sleep, and you got me...ah, somewhat functional. Just--please stand in front of me when he first sees me, I don’t want him to hug me hard then get surprised when I drop dead.”

“Sleep is for weak children of the capital,” Izumi deadpans, turning when he stops in front of his bedroom door to stare up at Arashi. “Stop trying to die already,” he quietly says, then just opens the door. “Mika—“

Mika is already there, obviously having heard Arashi’s voice, and Izumi grabs him before he can launch through the door and leap at Arashi’s currently too-delicate body. “No, no, no,” Izumi grunts, wrestling him back, throwing him over his shoulder with a last burst of adrenaline to keep Mika from doing serious harm. “ _No_ , he’s still hurt, he’s going to lie on the bed and you can curl up next to him—“

“ _Kara_ ,” Mika sobs, still kicking and squirming to try and get away, reaching out a desperate hand for Arashi. “ _Kara_ , I k-knew you wouldn’t leave me, I knew it— _let me touch him!”_

“Don’t shriek in my ear, you beast! Gods, and I thought I was bad about Leo. Get on the damned bed, Arashi.” 

“I’m all right, _amaka_ ,” Arashi assures Mika, tears springing in his eyes again from emotion this time. He shuffles slowly to the bed, grimacing when he feels his hip socket crunch as he turns his body. His face goes white, but he doesn’t stop moving, sitting on the bed, then slowly getting onto one side. “Come here, darling, I’ll never leave you, but please be gentle, half my bones are powder today."

“Don’t _climb on him_ ,” Izumi hisses, _slowly_ releasing Mika once he seems to have calmed to merely vibrating instead of a kicking and writhing mass. 

Mika clambers over the bed, curling up in a shivering, still-vibrating ball against Arashi, but not on him, as instructed. He exhales a quiet, nervous little whimpering sound, and stays there, unmoving and quiet again.

“Right,” Izumi exhales, wiping a hand down his face and trying not sway where he stands. “Give me twenty minutes,” he says, backtracking out of the room. “I’m going to eat…whatever I can find, because that’s how much I fucking love you, Milady.” 

“Ask for Barda in the kitchen,” Arashi advises, letting a hand drape over Mika’s shoulder, eyes closing. “Tell her she has nice eyes, she’ll give you whatever you want. Ah, _amaka_ , don’t cry so much, you’re going to make me feel very guilty for dying.”

Mika’s eyes are enormous as he stares at Arashi. “You…you _died?”_

“Don’t _tell him_ , fuck,” Izumi mutters, shaking his head as he backtracks out of the room, shutting the door behind him. His legs wobble, threatening to give out. _Not yet. Give me one more hour, then you’ll get your rest._

Stumbling all the way to the kitchen yields poor results. Barda, it seems, is out, and so snagging an entire bread loaf off the counter is his best option, which he gnaws on until he hears the tell-tale sounds of Chiaki and Shu returning. He slowly peels himself off the counter, grabbing a cup to take with him as he heads towards the common room. “If he didn’t take you by the bakery, I’ve got bread,” Izumi hazily greets. “And a cup. For…whatever thing you needed it for. Mika’s too crazy for you right now, by the way, just wait.” 

“We went by the bakery!” Chiaki exclaims, brandishing a brioche roll. “Ah, thank you for the stimulating ride, my friend. And now, I will go back to my men!”

When he leaves, Shu gives Izumi a little smile, turning the cup over and over in his hands. A few crumbs fall off his shirt, where there are many, many more. “I was hungry,” he says, too tired to be defensive. “My lord and I can talk more easily with the help of cups. What’s wrong with Mika?”

Izumi collapses down into another chair, uninterested in keeping up appearances when there isn’t another soldier around to comment. “He thought both you and Arashi were dead,” he answers, gnawing on his bread loaf slowly. This part of it is a little stale. He doesn’t really care, it’s not like he can taste it right now. “So that’s been. Exciting.” 

“Ridiculous, I told him I wouldn’t die a virgin,” Shu says with a sniff. “It isn’t my fault if he didn’t believe a prophecy. Is that bread really enough for you?”

“I puke if I eat anything else when I’m like this. Sweets work faster, but they also come back up faster,” Izumi wearily explains. “Prophecy or no prophecy, he definitely thought you were dead. Can you babysit him, maybe, when I finish with Arashi? If you aren’t talking with your…cup.” 

“Rei’s asleep right now,” Shu says, as if it should be entirely obvious. He stands, and plucks a strand of Izumi’s hair, making it lay correctly. “Let us take care of it for a moment. You just eat, and have something to drink. Count to thirty, then you can come up and remove him, once I’ve gentled Mika.”

Izumi hesitates, already thinking of things to argue about, but he settles back instead, too exhausted to bother. “What is he?” he asks instead, voice quiet. “I used to joke about it, but…he should be dead. He _should be._ That’s…the kind of stuff regular humans don’t come back from.” 

Shu shrugs. “No one I trust can say. If you want my guess, he’s a little of one, a little of another. When bloodlines get muddled like that, it’s hard to tell what they are, and their powers are more of a lottery than anything. Just think, if he lived a quiet life, he’d probably never know.” He hesitates. “But you’re right. No human could ever have survived that. You didn’t see him when he was knocked into the ocean. Izumi, most of him was just... _gone_. I, I could see his _heart_ , beating inside the shredded ribcage--which, by the way, he now owes me for having to live through seeing that.”

“…Gross,” Izumi settles upon, feeling his stomach lurch a little. He’s not squeamish about that sort of thing, but it’s the thought of it being Arashi, more than anything, that is so upsetting. He forces another bite of bread into his mouth. “He mentioned the Emperor said something to him before fucking him up. Maybe he knows. I’ll ask, before I punch his face in, inevitably.” He hesitates, and then asks one last question, unable to help himself. “And Kanata is…what, exactly? I feel like I would have been more impressed by his mere existence if I hadn’t been preoccupied, but…”

“Oh, Kanata’s wavebred,” Shu says, sounding relieved to change the subject. “His father’s mother was a mermaid, so he was half, and fell in love with another mermaid, so he’s three quarters. It’s an unstable mix, so he doesn’t have control of his physical characteristics. This is why you must be very careful of all of your offspring, you know. You never know what you could make.”

“Whoops,” Izumi wearily says. “Too late. Well, he’s very beautiful, and…very magical, I’m guessing, if he was able to keep both you and Arashi alive. Are you all right? Sorry, I’ve been trying to focus on Arashi so much—Mika was _very_ sure you were dead, too, but you seem…fine.” 

“Oh, my ‘death’ was all of my own making. And I was brilliant, wasn’t I?” Shu beams, straightening up, shoulders squared. “My secret potion stopped all my bodily functions, making me appear dead, and I was able to separate my soul temporarily--only because I’m utterly brilliant, of course. I knew that if I were successful in stopping Wataru at all, the Emperor would be enraged and take it out on me. The safest bet was to be dead at the time.”

“So _that’s_ what my foot was for,” Izumi murmurs, slumping back. “Well. Thank the gods you’re brilliant and I was willing to chop off my foot for you. I don’t really want to think about what Mika would be like if you were really dead.” 

Shu shifts, uncomfortable with the subject. “I worry,” he admits. “That he will be...less than functional, if something should happen to me. I was hoping to be able to leave him in his lover’s...mm, _adequate_ care, which reasonable praise from me, but unfortunately we were both disposed of. I’ll have to think ahead for how to care for him in such an eventuality, next time.”

“…It’s not like I wouldn’t see that he’s taken care of, if you both died, for one reason or another,” Izumi slowly settles upon, stuffing another piece of bread into his mouth. At least now he doesn’t feel like he has to be so _frantic_ about it. “But I don’t think I’m the idea caretaker. He’s, ah. A little beyond my purview, you know?” 

Shu gives him a severe look--or about as severe as he can manage, under the circumstances. “He was nearly catatonic. That doesn’t say he was taken care of to me. And if not you, who? You know him, do you think he has friends falling out of trees?”

Izumi spreads his hands. “I literally _just_ _said_ he’s beyond my purview. I’ve barely had him for two days, I did my best in the circumstances! He won’t even look at me half the time. I’ll take the fact I kept him from _blowing everything up_ as a sign that I did a decent job.” 

“Disappointing, I expect more. I will hold you to far higher standards the next time I fake my own death.”

“Can you not? Where’s your husband, why isn’t he doing anything,” Izumi grouses, climbing to his feet and brushing crumbs off of his entire self. “I haven’t even met this guy, I’m starting to think he’s a lie. Come on, I’ll walk with you, I’m feeling as well as I’m going to.” 

Shu blinks slowly, then brushes more crumbs off his chest. “He’s imprisoned in the Academy, obviously. Which is clearly his plan, to be within striking distance. Ah, I’m pleased that everyone was fooled--you all thought I was going to rescue him with my potion, didn’t you? Ha!”

“I guess I’m just not that patient,” Izumi wryly admits, ignoring the slight wobble of his knees when he leads the way back to his room. “I like instant gratification. For his sake, I hope it works…is he trying to off the Emperor or something?” 

“If I knew,” Shu says softly, walking slowly even if he’s mostly healed, “I’d be a threat to his plan, unwitting or no. The Emperor has his ways of reading minds, Izumi. If you have the slightest doubt that someone is messing with your mind, sending you messages, forcing you to do something, listen to that intuition. He has never fought fairly.”

Izumi hesitates at that. “…Does he ever…impersonate other people?” he warily asks. “When I was heading here, for example…I heard Yuukun—ah, Makoto’s voice. That’s how I found everyone that had been captured.” 

Shu’s eyes narrow. “He doesn’t. Wataru is the finest impersonator in the realm, though--possibly in the world. If they’ve somehow managed to combine their talents, that could be dangerous indeed. Then again, Makoto is a wizard. It’s well within his talents to send a message to someone with whom he has a connection. Did you feel like you were receiving information, or like you were being compelled?”

“…Is there a difference?” Izumi hazards, shrugging helplessly. His brain is probably too muddled for this conversation at current. “I mentioned it to him, and he said he didn’t call out to me magically or anything like that. Just that he wished I was there to save him. I don’t know, it didn’t seem too weird until you started talking about how the Emperor can influence people.” 

Wordlessly, Shu spreads his hands. He feels battered, weary, and much older than he’d been a few days ago. “I don’t know how to tell what it was. Just be on your guard, if you hear it again and it tries to get you to do something that doesn’t make sense, or that you don’t want to do. Ah, my bones ache. Don’t heal me, I’m fine, you need all your energy for Mika’s abomination.”

Izumi drops it with a flutter of a hand, and tries not to collapse into his bedroom door. “If I have any juice left later, I can always make you tingle while you pet my hair,” he wryly teases, and knocks on the door before opening it. “Don’t hiss at me, I’m here to fix your love.”

Mika hisses anyway—until he sets eyes on Shu, and he freezes on the spot, trembling, rooted to the spot on the bed but still _clearly_ wanting to latch onto him as well. “M…master…” Tears well up into his already-stinging eyes. “You’re…you’re really…”

“I _told you_ he was fine, gods,” Izumi sighs, dragging himself back over to the bed and crawling onto it. 

“Trade,” Shu offers Arashi, who nods, looking extremely gray around the edges. The result is a shuffling, slow movement where Shu sits on the edge of the bed, and Arashi drags himself towards the edge of the bed and Izumi, looking far more pathetic than he’d ever allow under normal circumstances. 

Shu wraps an arm around Mika’s shoulders, and starts fussing with his hair. “You absolutely went to pieces, you silly bird. As a test run for my death, you failed with flying colors.”

Mika immediately lurches over to bury himself into Shu’s chest, sniffly and snotty and not at all able to stop himself. “Y-you coulda warned me,” he whispers, hands fisting into Shu’s robes. “I saw it, I saw your hourglass break, I…”

“Just lie down, Arashi,” Izumi orders, easing Arashi back with careful, gentle hands. He follows after him, slinging a leg over Arashi’s hips to straddle him—pointedly without putting a single gram of weight upon him—and lean over him. “I don’t need your participation for this. Fall asleep or something.” His fingers gingerly brush down Arashi’s face, then settle at the base of his neck, breathing out a long, shaky sigh as he lets the energy from his own body simply pour out into healing. Arashi feels like a vacuum for it right now—which is, frankly, scary, and reminds him of when Leo tried to die, and had simply sucked him dry.

But that was before he woke up after his own brush with death, and everything has been…easier, since. 

“Sorry if any part of it hurts while it’s doing its thing,” Izumi quietly apologizes, shutting his own eyes. “It gets weird, I know.”

Arashi’s eyes flutter closed, then open, but they’re glazed, dizzy. “Feels weird,” he admits. “Like I’m...falling...”

“The hourglass broke? Ah, I _am_ getting better, and I was already outstanding, ha ha!” Shu preens a little, and pets Mika’s hair more aggressively, even as he puffs up his chest with pride. “I couldn’t tell you in advance, or the reactions wouldn’t be real--and after I injured Wataru badly, I knew the Emperor would love nothing more than to rip me apart...and he would have, if I hadn’t already been ‘dead,’ you see. I’m brilliant, the plan is brilliant.”

“Once your body starts doing normal things like figuring out that making more blood is a good thing, that’ll go away,” Izumi mutters, already feeling his hands start to shake. _Not yet, not yet. Literally give me another half hour, I can do this._ “Just…warn me…if you start feeling like you’re going to throw up.”

Mika lifts his head only enough to cast a worried glance in Arashi’s direction before he wipes his nose on Shu’s sleeve, and surrenders to the petting of his hair. “Scary,” he whispers. “It was too scary. Master, don’t do that again. It…it was already the worst to see Arashi’s jus’…jus’ _shatter_ like that, but…yours…” 

“It did what now?” Arashi asks, unfocused eyes looking up in Mika’s vague direction. “Can it do that? I mean, I didn’t die, obviously, I’m here now, and I’m nothing magic...”

“You’re something. Not human completely,” Shu says. “Kanata and I agree.”

“Horseshit,” Arashi says bluntly. “My mother’s a washerwoman and my father’s a carpenter, and trust me, the people in my family don’t have a problem dying, or I’d know about it.”

“It shattered,” Mika lowly insists, clinging to Shu’s neck as he peers over at Arashi, watching him through his bangs. “And it’s…it’s back now, but it’s…weird…” He squints, and his eyes water before he has to shut them. 

“Eh?” Arashi struggles up onto his elbows, looking down at his chest as if he’ll see it himself, when of course he never does. “Weird how? Weird how? I feel like I need to know how it’s weird!”

“Can you not right now?” Izumi groans, knees wobbling as he finally gives up, and sits back onto Arashi’s thighs. “Stop moving, this is already hard enough!”

“Weird like…nnh.” Mika shakes his head, burying his face into Shu’s neck. “Not like the snake’s.”

Arashi’s face goes white, and he lays back quickly, letting Izumi work. “Eh? How’s Izumi’s weird? And what’s weird about mine?”

“Mika,” Shu asks, curious now, “is my lord’s what you’d call weird, too?”

“Mmnn…and his brother’s…also weird. But all in different ways.” Mika’s fingers slowly flex against Shu’s back. “The Demon King’s…’s slower than usual, way slower, and Ritsu’s too, but…their sand is all black, and it turns colors. Ritsu’s goes all red when he feeds, and the Demon King’s…um…when you do it with him.”

“Better than a hickey,” Izumi deadpans, feeling a drop of sweat roll down the back of his neck as he bends over Arashi again.

“Izumi’s…it’s like it’s being flipped, y’know? But not really, um…” Mika hesitates, thinking for a way to explain it when words don’t want to come. “Like the sand’s goin’ in both directions at once. It hurts to watch. And _kara’s_ …it…it used to be normal—kinda oversized, but I’ve seen that before, nothin’ weird…but now…it…sometimes, it jus’…looks like the sand is stoppin’ sometimes.” 

“Stopping sometimes?” Arashi tries to think about what that might mean, but most of his mental powers are being rerouted to a part of his brain that says _this feels weird, I don’t like it, it does feel kind of good but it mostly feels weird!_ “Um, does that mean my life is stopping, or something? Ahh, what would do that?”

“Mika, do you remember my friend Kuro, that we met last year in the Capital, with the red hair? You said his was oversized, is that how Arashi’s looks?”

“…Kinda? Not as big as his, but…kinda.” Mika bites his lip. “I…I don’t think it means your life is stoppin’, _kara_. It better not. It…it just…I’ve only ever seen that kinda thing with one other person, but it’s so weird…” 

“Kuro is half-ogre,” Shu murmurs to himself, frowning. All the other people Mika has mentioned are half something or another, none of them fully human, but Arashi...

“One other? Who? Is it--is it someone dead?” Arashi demands, or tries to demand when he sounds shaken to the core.

“Nuh-uh.” Mika’s head slowly shakes. “It’s…” He hesitates. “It’s the Emperor.”

“Excellent, his ass is hard to kill,” Izumi distractedly mutters, his eyes fluttering as he tries to stay focused. 

“The Emperor’s…his doesn’t move at all. It’s…it’s _so_ weird. I hate watching it, it makes me nervous.” 

“There you are,” Shu says tiredly, returning to stroking Mika’s hair, tucking each strand into place where it belongs. “You look something like an ogre, and something like an angel. Aren’t you special.”

“But...but no one in my family...” Arashi swallows hard, which, for the first time, doesn’t hurt abominably. “Why didn’t it do this before?”

“Dunno. You’re probably like…tiny fractions, y’know?” Mika slowly settles underneath the touch of Shu’s hands, loosening his grip on Shu’s robes somewhat. “But even that’s enough to be special.”

“If you weren’t a soldier getting your ass kicked all the time, you’d never know,” Izumi murmurs. “Do me a favor…and stop it. Ah, I am seeing some _colors_ , let me tell you.” 

“Knock it off,” Arashi says with a groan, batting Izumi’s hands away. “You heard my love, I apparently am too special to die. Which is news to me, but honestly seems sort of fitting.”

“Honestly, Mika, look what you’ve done to my robes--these are Nightcloak robes, you know, I made them myself, but that doesn’t mean you can wrinkle them as much as you like--”

“No, I am _so…so_ close to being done,” Izumi dazedly insists, slumping forward against Arashi’s chest. “I’ve got you, he’s right, you’re too special to die, you’re not allowed to.”

“Master,” Mika begins, his lower lip trembling as he pulls back enough to meet Shu’s eyes. “You fake- _died._ ” 

Abruptly, Izumi’s eyes roll back, and he passes out, mouth slack. 

“Whoa. He’s just _out,_ ain’t he.” 

“Honestly,” Shu says crossly, nudging Mika to the side so he can get Izumi to sit up. He reaches out a hand, a spark of violet fire flaring at Izumi’s temple. “This is a very masturbatory little circle we have going on here. Well, I’m no Healer, and certainly no icebred, but now at least he won’t have a headache.”

“He’ll be fine,” Arashi says, ignoring Izumi’s prohibitions and sitting up again, lacing his fingers through Izumi’s hair. “I’m not sure anything can really kill him. Ah, I used to be so jealous of that...”

Izumi flops limply into Arashi’s shoulder, and Mika wriggles his way over to fit himself against Arashi’s side again. “If you had died, I would’ve blown up the whole world,” Mika says very seriously, staring up at him. “So this is better. Hmm, he’s cuter when he’s sleepin’.” 

“Mika,” Shu says sternly, “we’ve talked about this. You need to learn to function properly on your own, no one wants to hear that--”

“You’d really do that?” Arashi asks, eyes tearing up as he grasps for Mika’s hands. “You love me that much?”

Mika nods firmly, gripping Arashi’s hands tightly and ignoring Shu completely for once. “The whole world,” he swears, sniffling. “If…if you were alive and they had caught me, even, I woulda killed everything and everyone to get back to you. I can’t do it anymore, I _can’t.”_

“Can’t do _what_ \--Arashi, you fool, you shouldn’t be encouraging this kind of--”

“I’d kill everything and everyone to get to you too, _amaka_ , I’ll never let you be alone again--I’ll kill the gods if I have to!”

“ _Kara—_ “ Mika’s sniffling turns to an outright sob again, and he lurches forward, clinging to Arashi’s neck. “P-please don’t d-do that again, please don’t, let’s jus’ run off and get married and I can pretend to be your wife l-like Natsume does and—“

Izumi’s eyes flutter open just in time to catch the tail-end of the exchange, and he groans, rolling away with his hands wiping down his flushed face. “Glad everything’s back to normal,” he breathes, trying to claw himself back into a sitting position, failing, and so he just lies there for a moment. “Except me. Whatever.”

“You’ll be fine in a few minutes,” Shu says, amused, as he regards the pair with something between disgust and grudging affection. “You and I can sulk in a corner about being without our stupid honorable effervescently unknowable significant others for the moment while these two...cannoodle.”

Izumi grunts at that, and rolls his way off the bed in spite of how noodle-like his limbs feel. “Pass. Ah, gods, fuck, my knees feel like they’re sloshing around,” he bemoans, trembling for a second and bracing a hand on the side of the bed to stay upright. “I haven’t slept,” he breathes, “in about three days now. So I’m going to go to do that in…someone else’s room, because this one was mine and now isn’t. If you need me…can you reconsider for at least four hours?” 

Mika sobs into Arashi’s hair, and grabs at Shu’s sleeve again to make sure _he_ doesn’t leave. 

“Taking that as a yes.” 

“I’ve been co-opted,” Shu says, pretending to be a lot more annoyed and less flattered than he is, with a regretful shrug. “Enjoy your rest. You’ve earned it, and a few years more. I’m sure between the three of us we can keep the world from exploding for a few hours.”

“Excellent. We’ll talk later. I have…things to say.”

Eloquence, not his strong point right now. Izumi barely manages a wave before stumbling out of the room, shutting the door, and simply sliding down to the floor outside of it. 

Maybe he’ll just stay here for awhile. 

Izumi trembles. Every single part of his body aches, even his brain seems to ache, and it feels like it’s misfiring, reminding him of too many obnoxious things at once. You saved them all, now what? Time to drag them back into danger, your mother started a war, she wants you on the throne, what the fuck is Leo doing, where is he, is he all right, you don’t have time to be tired.

_Slowly, painstakingly, when he’s fairly certain he can move again, he hauls himself back up to his feet, and stumbles a few doors down. It’s an empty bed, it’s good enough, and collapsing down onto it feels better than anything ever has, he’s pretty sure._

At least his brain shuts up for five seconds, and that’s long enough to find sleep. 


	33. Chapter 33

It’s only a few hours later that Makoto wearily stumbles into his room, exhausted from the captivity and the drinking celebration he’d been dragged into. He flops into bed before looking at it, and almost screams when there’s someone in it. A moment later, he realizes who it is-- _familiar smell, familiar everything familiar feel in my heart_ \--and relaxes, and when Izumi doesn’t stir, Makoto simply rolls him over and tugs him into his embrace, hopefully providing some warmth before he passes out into a deep, thankfully dreamless sleep.

But before dawn, the dreamless sleep ceases, and the nightmares come. He’s locked in a box, he’s being broken apart bone by bone, he’s being kidnapped and tortured and used against everyone he loves. He twitches, whimpering in his sleep, fighting the shadows, feeling them lock his body in place with their screws and lashes and horrible machines.Izumi shifts in his sleep, stirring slowly. It’s not necessarily what he hears, but more of what he feels, grumpily flopping over to nestle against the warm body that’s next to him.  
Then he cracks his eyes open, and sees that it’s Makoto.

Hmm. That’s not a bad thing. He’s warm and comfortable, but this nightmare that Makoto is having is no good. Izumi can sleepily register that beyond just the way that Makoto’s face twists and brow furrows in his sleep, and he runs his fingers through Makoto’s hair, languidly petting him. “Yuukun,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse from sleep. “Wake up, you’re having a nightmare.”   
It’s less the voice, more the touch to his hair that startles Makoto out of his nightmare, instinctively butting his head against that kind touch. He shudders, and clings to Izumi, burying his face in his shoulder from behind. “Sorry,” he whispers. “I’m okay. I...we’re in High Harbor, right?”

“Mmn, unless someone moved me while I was playing dead,” Izumi dryly says. He twists slowly in Makoto’s hold to better continue petting him, pushing his bangs out of his face. “Feels like comfy High Harbor beds. Heh, were you drinking?” 

“Sorry...Tsukasa and Subaru said it would make me feel better and help me sleep. It kind of did, but now my stomach feels...bad. Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing? I asked because alcohol can give you nightmares, if you aren’t used to it.” Izumi snuggles further against him, slinging a leg over Makoto’s hip to keep using him for warmth. “Sorry I stole your bed. I kind of fell into the first place I could find. I just keep finding my way back to you, I guess~...” 

“If I were still drunk,” Makoto whispers, “I’d say it was fate. Sorry, that’s stupid, but...I used to think about it. When we were kids, and you were always chasing me around...you always found me. I never knew how. I mean, I was probably just bad at hiding, but...it felt like more.”

“You were bad at hiding,” Izumi confirms, muffling a yawn into Makoto’s shoulder.   “But maybe it’s fate. What are the odds we’d meet again, hmm? On...three different occasions now?” Izumi slides his fingers down from Makoto’s hair, petting his back instead. “I told my mother about you. She remembers you.” 

“You shouldn’t.” Makoto pokes at Izumi’s shoulder. “Status matters up North. You’ve been spending too much time with these Southerners. I’m just a cook’s son, remember?”

“What do you think I _told her?_ ” Izumi laughs, and promptly slides a hand underneath Makoto’s shirt for warmth. Maintaining a proper body temperature is still difficult after all that healing. Eating would help, but that requires getting up, so skin-to-skin contact it is. “I just mentioned that you were a fancy wizard now and we met back up, that’s all. I _suppose_ I could tell her a few more details, but...” 

Makoto’s face flushes, and he ducks his head, embarrassed. “I just thought...that she wouldn’t want you being so affectionate with someone like me. I’m not exactly a fancy wizard, there’s no rank lower than Dawncloak...”

“She wants me to marry some ugly, hairy soldier, so I don’t really want to hear her opinion on my love life right now,” Izumi snorts. “All wizards are fancy, you know. It’s not like any regular human can just go out and do magic, stop putting yourself down.” 

“It’s not like I’m really part of your love life, either, though? You’re...you and the prince are lovers, right? Tsukasa told me.”

“We’ve had sex, you’re part of my love life,” Izumi crossly says. “Kasa sure does run his mouth when he’s drunk, doesn’t he.” 

“He said you turned into a monster when he tried to touch the prince’s chest. I mean, I was there, that’s not what I saw, but he was _very_ convinced.”

“Fucking pussy. I’ll have to kick his ass tomorrow. Today. Whatever time it is.” Amidst his grumbling, Izumi gets both hands underneath Makoto’s shirt with a satisfied sigh. “I’m taking you back with me, by the way.” 

“Eh? Back where? Up North? I’m not sure my mother exactly wants me back,” Makoto admits, shifting to give Izumi’s hands a more comfortable place to be.

“No. When I leave for the capital again.” Izumi’s eyes lid. “My mother has an encampment there. Currently, she’s starving out the king and the rest of the capital with him. It’s not ideal, but...at least she’s doing something.” 

Makoto swallows hard, unable to meet Izumi’s eyes. “I’m afraid...that you’ve been spending time with far more capable wizards, if you think I can help you with that,” he says, shamefaced. “The difference between what I can do, and what someone like His Excellency Shu can do...”

“I’m not taking your ass back with me to be a weapon. I’m taking your ass back there to be _safe_.” Izumi gently pinches his hip. “Or if you want to be useful, you could start by telling me what I _can_ expect from you--without fucking talking down about yourself, because I’m done with that, thanks.” 

Makoto shrinks back. “S-sorry, I’m not...I’m not trying to, I’m just trying to be realistic? The only thing I’m really good at is researching...I can see magic that’s already been done and tell you about it? But for practical stuff, like speaking over long distances, or blowing things up, or making something out of nothing...I’m not much better at that kind of stuff than you are.”

“Didn’t you loan your magic to that Academy spy before? Mao, that’s his name, I keep forgetting. That’s useful. You’re so flinchy,” Izumi grouses, flatting himself more against Makoto to keep him from escaping. “Look, literally even just having a wizard around makes people think twice, even if you can’t blow up anything...but none of that is necessary. I’m going to talk to Arashi, and see if he’ll bring his army.” He brushes Makoto’s hair out of his face again, thumbing his cheek. “Then we’ll win, you’ll never have to go back to the Academy’s bullshit again.” 

“Eh? Seriously? But...who’s going to keep us safe?”

“...you know no one’s trying to kill you, right? Like,” Izumi exhales, propping himself up a bit onto an elbow. “Wasn’t the Academy supposed to just be for teaching you all originally? That’s what Shu told me. Then it got weird. Take out the weirdness, and you’ve got a perfectly good thing. Do you _want_ to go back to bizarre underwear and the idea that you can’t have sex or relationships?” 

“...No,” Makoto admits. He chews on his bottom lip, worrying it chapped. “It’s only...before the Academy took over wizard’s welfare, the crown put us to some...not so great uses, you know? Plus, you know, nowadays if a wizard has an accident and something goes wrong, like a young one, the Academy takes care of it and pays the fines, but in the old days, if that happens--and it happens a lot, when we bloom, we can’t control it--they’d get arrested or fined, and basically be in slavery to pay off the debt their whole lives.” Makoto grimaces. “So...who’s going to keep us safe? At least this way, even if it sucks, it’s wizards telling us what to do, you know?”

“I don’t know all of the answers to that yet,” Izumi quietly says. “And I’m not even saying all of that’s going to go away. All I know...is that I’m sick and tired of seeing the people I’ve started calling friends suffer at the hand of the Academy, and they tried carting you all back in little _boxes_ after nearly killing some of the people I really care about...so my patience is at its end. Something needs to change, and nothing’s going to happen until we start forcing the issue. Stop chewing on your lips, you’ll make them bleed.” 

Makoto stops, guilty, but he still doesn’t meet Izumi’s eyes. “That’s what the Emperor is telling people you’re doing, just so you know. Tearing it down without putting anything else up. It’s why there’s no full-scale revolt among the wizards. A lot of us live for a long time, so...they remember. Tsumugi’s been telling me about it.”

“I’m sure the Emperor’s been saying a lot of shit. I don’t really care.” Izumi sighs, raking a hand back through his hair before he rolls over onto his back with a resounding flop. “The Demon King’s heavily behind this push, so maybe he’s got some ideas, but the Emperor’s made sure he’s been kept quiet. I bet a lot of wizards would be a lot more on board if he could speak.” 

“Oh! Um, please don’t--I didn’t mean I don’t believe in you, or what you’re doing!” Makoto says hastily. “I’m sorry if it sounded that way--I really do think you’re doing the right thing! Taking something bad down is for the best, even if you don’t know what’s going in its place, I think!”

“Shhh.” Izumi stretches a hand over to cover Makoto’s mouth. “When you phrase it like that, it makes me tired. I’m figuring it out. Just tell me you’re on my side, that’s what I want to hear right now.” 

“...I’m on your side, Lord Izumi. Always.”

“Good. Thank you.” Izumi rolls onto his side, staring at him through his bangs. “My mother wants to rip the king off his throne and put me there. Still on my side?” 

“I’m on your side, Your Majesty.”

Izumi laughs in spite of himself. “That sounds weird, don’t call me that,” he says, letting his head thunk back against Makoto’s shoulder. “Good, though. You’re not allowed to leave me.” 

 _I bet you’re allowed to leave me, though_ , Makoto thinks wistfully, but he doesn’t say that. There’s no need to state the obvious, and Izumi has always been sort of incomprehensible to him on a lot of levels. “All right. I’ll be here.”


	34. Chapter 34

Journeying around the world lands Rei in some interesting places, but perhaps none as interesting as this one today.

The Isles are troublesome to reach, more troublesome to leave, with warm, pleasant temperatures year round. Koga doesn’t like them, but he’s at the age where he doesn’t like much of anything at all, and fortunately, Rei finds that charming rather than aggravating as the ship they snuck onto to arrive here pulls into port. 

After being there for scarcely a week, they run into…an issue. 

A blooming wizard isn’t what Rei expects to encounter. It’s one unlike what he’s seen or heard of in recent memory, involving a prolonged hurricane that sailors report days in advance, with the eye of the monstrous storm resting over them for a solid three days. The main island is in shambles after this, and the culprit, a tiny waif of a boy around the age of nine, local nobility with long, brilliantly red hair that post-blooming, now sports snow-white streaks. 

The Isles have never had a wizard bloom. The Academy’s feelers don’t reach here, Rei knows, and that’s why _he’s_ here. But…

In the open, sunny halls of his villa, Rei is faced with a problem _,_ and it’s one that he doesn’t honestly know how to deal with on his own. 

…which is why he discretely invited Wataru, against his better judgement.

“He’s already capable of learning Nightcloak level spells,” Rei lowly explains, leading Wataru down a corridor to the open common room, where sun pours in through the ceiling and windows. In direct response to the weather, his own hair is cropped short, black waves of it barely enough to be tucked behind his ears, and his wizard robes of old are long discarded for the sake of discretion. Loose linen clothing is the way of a sailor (or in his case, a stowaway), and he sports it without care. “He burns through the material faster than anyone I’ve ever seen. But, more than that…” 

Koga’s loud growling greets them when Rei opens the common room door, sounding as aggressive as any little wolf-child ever could. “I’m not playing cards with him anymore!” he snaps immediately at Rei, his flurry, furred tail lashing out in frustration where he sits on the floor. “He cheats, he _does!_ ”

Natsume, red hair pulled back in a tail at the base of his neck, blinks back at Koga in open boredom. “I didn’t. I just saw the card you’d play, and _so_ …” 

“Koga, what did I say about having your tail out like that—“

Koga’s growling turns to snarls, and Rei sighs, staring briefly up towards the ceiling. “Anyway,” he says, as two grey, fluffy ears pop out on Koga’s head as well. “Wataru, you know Koga, but this is Natsume.”

Natsume stares back at them both, golden eyes wide. “ _You_ look like a wizard,” he tells Wataru. “Like the kind from _legends._ ”

Admittedly, it doesn’t take much to make Wataru preen. This child, however...he’s something special. Wataru specializes more in being seen than in seeing, but even his eyes can clearly see the way the boy looks not at the material, but the ethereal, tracking things that haven’t yet happened. “Amazing!” he crows, arms flung out to the sides. “Ah, Rei, do you hear? I’m like a real wizard, like the kind from legends!”

He swoops close, his face barely two inches from the child’s face, his own eyes swirling in a phalanx of changing colors. The restless wing of a dove peeks out from his shirt’s collar, and he ignores it. “And so are you, child,” he murmurs, reaching down to trace a fingertip along the boy’s jaw. “Ah...you have found something special, Rei, haven’t you?”

Natsume doesn’t flinch back, but his cheeks do slowly flush as he stares up at Wataru, entranced. “Your hair,” he whispers, “is _so_ long.”

“He’s much sweeter with you,” Rei snorts, amused. “He likes complaining about the things I tell him to do. Don’t you, Milady?”

“I’m no lady, that’s just what my mom likes!” Natsume’s lower lip juts in a pout, and he focuses back onto Wataru again, reaching out a hand towards his back as if he’s about to touch something, then pulls it back again, obviously annoyed that what he was about to touch isn’t there _yet._ “Ah…sorry, I thought I saw…”

Rei’s eyebrows raise, and he folds his arms. “I was hoping,” he says to Wataru instead, very carefully, “that you would understand why he shouldn’t be placed into the Academy.” 

Wataru stares for another minute, fighting the rising qualm in his heart that this boy is _dangerous_ , that his loyalty compels him to bring such a prize to his master at once. Certainly, all of that is true. But this...

He reaches a hand to his own back, and finds nothing, nothing but a sense of tingling foreboding. He doesn’t need to imagine what Eichi would do with a prize like this. 

He turns to look at Rei, eyes piercing. “Can you teach him? Everything he needs to know? Gods above, look at him, he’s practically a Nightcloak already--how _amazing_ ~!”

“Of course I can teach him,” Rei scoffs, a dismissive hand waving. “Look at him, barely a day with me and he already has enough control not to have a misfire in over twelve hours.”

Koga’s growling starts back up. “He singed my ears earlier!”

Natsume huffs. “That was on _purpose._ ” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t’ve had them out,” Rei wearily says.

“I’m not stupid,” Natsume firmly insists, his eyes gleaming eagerly. “Lord Rei already said I’m doing stuff that took even _him_ a long time to master—you’re a Nightcloak, too, aren’t you, um…” 

“Wataru,” Rei offers. His gaze is wary, watching Wataru closely. “Wataru is the left hand of the Emperor,” he softly says. “And a very powerful Nightcloak in his own right.” _And hopefully, on the same page as I for the first time in awhile._

“The cloak doesn’t make one wise, of course,” Wataru says blithely, all of his attention on Natsume. “In the end, it’s only a bit of cloth! All it means is that we have abilities as far beyond wizards as normal ones are beyond regular humans. But we’re as foolish as any man, of course!”

He kneels, turning Natsume’s head this way and that, examining him. “What would you do with your powers, child? If you were a young god, capable of anything...what sort of world would you create?”

Natsume lets Wataru turn him to and fro, only swaying a little, and eventually butts his head into the touch, his cheeks flushing. “I...don’t make fun of me.”

“No one’s going to make fun of you,” Rei assures him, taking a seat and patting his knee, to which Koga immediately scrambles over to for a proper ear scritching. 

“...I want to tell fortunes for people. So they don’t make stupid decisions. So...like the storm that came through a few days ago, I would be able to see it coming much further in advance...or for my mommy--er, mother, I could help her a lot more, things like that...she already used to try to do that for people, but I think I’m better at it now.”

_He’s too cute,_ Rei mouths to Wataru, gaze pleading. _Look at him, he’s adorable!_

“You could help your mother quite a bit,” Wataru agrees, his own eyes glinting. “But we don’t train people to be Nightcloaks so they can help their mothers. Your dreams--let them take flight! Let them expand and soar! Did you ask him, Rei...perhaps he _wants_ to go to the Academy.” He schools his face into an expression of contemplation, when truly, his mind is already made up. “You could learn everything there is to know, and be the most powerful wizard ever born!”

Natsume scrunches up his nose, leaning back. “But I don’t want to. Lord Rei told me that I’d have to go to class all day, and that sounds boring. I can help people other than my mother, but I don’t want to help people that don’t deserve it. Besides, I don’t need _classes_ for that, when I can already learn really powerful spells--”

“Let’s not go into what I’ve already taught you, love,” Rei hums, fluttering a dismissive hand. “Wataru, he could be our pet project instead! An experiment, perhaps, to see how wizards operate with private tutors outside of the Academy? Wouldn’t that be exciting?” 

“I _do_ love things that are exciting,” Wataru admits, eyes lighting up. “Ah, imagine training him up to be Eichi’s foe someday--he’d love that! It would be like a present!”

“ _Or_ ,” Rei cheerfully says, “instead of putting him into harm’s way, he can simply be the one to predict Eichi’s untimely downfall. That sounds like a game; imagine your Emperor trying to avoid that, a real challenge for a change.” 

Wataru frowns. “Explain further, this doesn’t make sense to me. Wait, how about many birds?” A dove, restless, flutters out of his sleeve.

Natsume stares at the bird, watching it flutter aimlessly about now. “That’s _so_ cool.” He scoots closer to Wataru again, eyes enormous. “How many birds do you _have?_ ” 

“Look at him, Wataru, he’s too cute to be tossed into battle. Show him your birds.” 

Wataru’s eyes light up. He cups his hands in front of Natsume’s face, then slowly opens them, letting a tiny robin redbreast flutter onto one fingertip. “Hold out your hand, child,” he urges. “Rei, are you sure he isn’t your son? Why are you so determined to keep hm safe?”

Natsume slowly, carefully holds out his hand, squeaking a little when the bird hops right onto it with a fluff of its feathers. “Where did it come from?” he breathes, amazed. “Show me, show me.”

Rei exhales a sigh, shaking his head. “He’s not my son. Just...look at him, he’s...” 

He flutters a hand aimlessly before placing it back onto Koga’s head, petting him in vague frustration. “I’ve seen prophets before, but never ones that can see the future right before their eyes in almost...real time. He’s special. The idea of him being taken to the Academy, subjected to that kind of structure--I feel as though he’d lose the very power that makes him a Nightcloak.” 

Natsume, gently stroking his fingers down the robin’s back, pauses for a moment. “If I don’t go to the Academy--does that mean I don’t get a cloak like yours?” 

For whatever reason, that innocent question makes up Wataru’s mind for good. He stands, and takes off his own cloak, sweeping it out around Natsume’s narrow shoulders, letting it billow out over the floor. Underneath, his clothing is so white it shines, a finely tailored suit that moves with his body, a brilliant contrast to the muted tones of his hair. “You, our prophet, not be given a Nightcloak? Absurd, when you are so _amazing_! No, no, no Academy for you--Rei and I will train you, and it will be the most _amazing_ surprise!”

Rei sags visibly with relief, but Natsume doesn’t notice, too absorbed in the fact that he has _Wataru’s_ cloak. He snuggles down into it, beaming and content, even though it’s _much_ too large. The robin flutters off his hand, plopping down onto Natsume’s head instead. “I’ll be really good at everything, I _promise_ ,” Natsume insists, but more importantly--”Your hair is so long, how do I get hair that long?” 

“Maybe we should shrink your cloak a bit so it fits him better,” Rei muses, but Natsume hisses, ducking down further into the cloak in question.

“No, I want it to stay like _this!”_

“All right, all right, goodness, don’t spit at me, little cat.” Rei rolls his eyes, leaning forward to plop his chin in one hand. “I can’t keep him on this island forever,” he wryly tells Wataru. “But when I bring him back to the mainland, I’ll be sure to keep him hidden. I just want time to train him first. I’m amazed you were even allowed to join me here in the first place.” 

“A very high-ranking noble child just bloomed,” Wataru explains airily, waving a hand. “Eichi had to go take care of it personally, and apparently the little thing has imprinted upon him like a duckling. So I’m temporarily free, and could think of no better way to spend the time!” Or, he’d already eaten all of the sugared nuts in the entire Academy, and none of his usual ‘toys’ had been enthusiastic about playing with him.

“How does he keep acquiring pets that honestly enjoy his company?” Rei deadpans, rolling his eyes. “Sorry--if I never return to the Academy, it’ll be too soon.” 

“But you have to go back, eventually,” Natsume murmurs, urging the bird off of his head and petting down its back. “If you don’t, you won’t meet _him._ ”

Rei pauses for a moment, then sighs, flopping back with his eyes closed. “That’s the kind of thing about prophets that makes me want to scream.”

Wataru laughs, throwing back his hair, petting Natsume’s head now that it’s devoid of bird. “Excellent! Tell Rei more things that surprise him, I love seeing that look on his face!”

“Umm...” Natsume squints, trying to focus. His eyes flicker from gold to a strange,  reddish-gold swirl, and he sways a bit, leaning into Wataru’s touch. “Are there ties that bind wizards? I can see one...” 

“Oh, I don’t fancy being tied down, forget you saw that,” Rei grouses, crossing his legs at the ankle as he props them up. “Pass, pass. Don’t encourage this, Wataru, I don’t want to know about _my_ future.” 

Wataru laughs merrily again, and the sound of tinkling bells fills the room. “Amazing! Rei, if you didn’t want this, you shouldn’t have gone off and adopted a baby prophet! Rei will really be tied down? I love it! The shiftless wanderer, finding a home in the storm at last!!”

“When he returns to the Academy, he’ll meet the one that he’s bound to,” Natsume says as if he’s reciting, and slithers his way closer to Wataru, draping his arms around his neck and clinging to him. 

“See, now I’m just never going back. Ugh, adopting a baby prophet should mean that I get to know the future of my _enemies_ , not myself. I’m already feeling stifled.  Is it hot in here?” 

Wataru looks down at the little growth he seems to have acquired, startled more than he thought he would be. This sort of thing doesn’t happen to him. It happens to Rei, who is kind, and Eichi, who exudes light, but not to _him_. Tentatively, as if he doesn’t quite understand the motion himself, he squeezes Natsume in a gentle hug. “We...I will keep you safe,” he says quietly. “And your enemies will never learn of your existence from me.” _Not even Eichi._

Natsume buries his face into Wataru’s neck, nodding even though he doesn’t really hear. 

“Heh.” Rei’s expression is wholly amused, and he rolls to the side, propping his chin into one hand. “You know, once I saw a hen adopt a kitten and sit on the fluffy little thing as if it were her own egg. This looks somewhat similar, somehow.” 

“I look forward to the day that you grow up to become my predator,” Wataru assures Natsume.


	35. Chapter 35

It’s not like cornering Tsumugi is difficult. 

The issue, of course, is figuring out what to say that will make him do what Natsume wants him to do. Tsumugi isn’t like _normal_ people. 

That’s why Natsume has to be...crafty.

Sure, that’s what he’ll call it. Crafty. That’s what it is when it’s early in the morning, before he’s been roused and dressed for breakfast, and he’s rolling over in bed to straddle Tsumugi and scowl down at him when he’s dressed in nothing but lacy night things. 

“Wake _up.”_

He’ll skip the insults...for now.

Tsumugi starts awake, tense and guarded, eyes full of fear before he sees who it is. He relaxes, then frowns, taking in the lace scantily covering Natsume’s form. Abruptly, his entire body notices something his mind has been trying not to for years--namely, that Natsume isn’t a child, but a young man, still lean and slight, but with an undeniable maturity in his form. Some parts of Tsumugi have been trying to notice that for a while, but he’s always been successful in getting Natsume to scold and scream at him until he’s forgotten. Natsume’s loathing, in a very real way, is the only thing keeping him behaving properly.

Until now, apparently.

He looks up, eyes full of trepidation. “Natsume,” he says, as gently and non-threateningly as he can, “your parents should have taught you not to tease men with your body. Someone might take you seriously, and you could get hurt.”

“Shut up.” Natsume leans forward, the long, red tendrils of his hair dripping down around Tsumugi’s face. “If you care about me as much as you say you do,” he quietly says, “you’ll give me what I need.” 

Tsumugi’s breath stutters. His tongue feels like lead. He tries counting, tries thinking about horrible things, but nothing keeps his body from reacting, even as his hands clench into fists at his sides. “I care about you...more than I want to say,” he whispers. Natsume above him is everything he’s never been good enough for--too beautiful, too young, too powerful--but he can’t stop his breath from coming faster, and he licks his lips. “I...”

“Then prove it.” Natsume plants a hand next to Tsumugi’s head, staring down at him with lidded eyes. “Remove the seal Lord Rei put on me.” 

Oh.

Tsumugi’s heart constricts. Disappointment mixes with guilt, mixes with hurt. Of course it would be something like that. “You have the wrong man,” he says, the words sounding hollow in his own ears. “Ah, I think I’m too accustomed to not getting what I want to think...sorry.”

Natsume’s mouth twists. “I know you can do it,” he insists, sitting back abruptly, and pointedly ignoring how hard Tsumugi is underneath him. “Tsumugi--I want to be able to _help._ Aren’t you sick and tired of being _useless?_ ” 

_Too hard_ , Tsumugi wants to say, but that’s ill-mannered. “Of course I’m sick of it, but...ah, maybe I’ve just been useless for too long. It just...feels normal to me now. Rei sealed you to keep you safe, don’t you want to be safe?”

“I got captured and stuck in a box! That’s not safe! The Academy isn’t safe!” Natsume’s lower lip trembles. “I want to be able to help--if Rei were here, I’m _sure_ he’d unseal me. _Please_ , Tsumugi.” _I’m asking nicely and not even reminding you of how useless you are, that should be enough!_

Tsumugi stares up at Natsume for a long moment. “I have a condition,” he says at last.

Natsume lights up. “Fine--fine, whatever it is, I’ll do it,” he immediately agrees, lurching forward to dig his fingers into the pillow above Tsumugi’s head. “Please, Tsumugi, I’m begging you!” 

“That you’ll let me protect you.” Tsumugi reaches up, curling his hand around Natsume’s in a way that he doesn’t usually dare, squeezing it hard. “I know you’re more powerful that I am. But I’ve studied for long enough--if I tell you to run and leave me behind, do it. That’s my condition.”

Natsume exhales a huff of breath, but he nods, no matter how the idea annoys him. “Fine,” he says again. “I’ll listen to you. I...” He exhales slowly, glancing aside. “I know...that you’re trained in ways that I’m not. I just wish you’d show it more. It pisses me off.” 

Tsumugi breathes again, though he can’t quite muster the self-control to release Natsume’s hand. “One area of my training is in concealing my magic,” he says honestly. “If I don’t use it, I can hide it completely--and then if we ever need someone to do magic quickly, I can do it without having to break the seal first. Useless, in other words, because the moment I become not-useless...well. I can only do it once per enemy, really.”

_But why didn’t you do that before, when people were dying?_ The question is on the tip of Natsume’s tongue, and he exhales a slow, frustrated breath through his nose. This is his only chance. He can’t be snappy or mean right now. “I was only trained for...less than a year, before I came here,” he quietly says. “By Lord Rei and...and Lord Wataru. But I don’t know anywhere near the amount of stuff you do, I know that. I _do_ know...that I’m really strong, though, and I can probably see most of the bad stuff before it even comes.” He huffs, and tilts his head back. “So take my seal off, and between the two of us, we can be _really_ useful.” 

“This is probably a bad idea,” Tsumugi mutters, but he reaches up, closing his eyes, laying a hand on Natsume’s cheek. His seal is strong and well-placed, invisible to anyone who isn’t looking for it. But one of Tsumugi’s skills is in being unseen, and seeing the unseeable. Even the heaviest door can be opened with the right lever, and he focuses his magic, forming it into a wafer-thin wedge. Then he sucks in a breath, summons his power, and gently pushes it forward. The seal pops free, then disintegrates, evaporating as if it had never been.

Tsumugi sighs, and opens worried eyes. “Are you all right? That didn’t hurt, did it?”

Natsume exhales a long, ragged breath, as if his corset strings have been slit open out of nowhere and he’s finally able to breathe properly again. It’s been _years_ since he was sealed, and being free of that makes him feel something akin to naked. He slinks back a bit, shivering, pushing his hair out of his face as his skin flushes. “Feels weird,” he murmurs, licking at his lips as he slumps back. “It’s...it’s been a long time, since that hasn’t been there...” He shivers again. “I’m cold.” 

Tsumugi feels himself blush. _Stop it_ , he tells himself firmly. _He can’t know how erotic he looks like that._ “Here,” he offers instead, grabbing the top layer of his blankets and tucking it around Natsume’s shoulders.

Natsume shakes his head and lurches down instead, pressing his entire body against Tsumugi’s, burying his face into his neck. “No. You’re warm.” 

Tsumugi shivers. His arms go helplessly around Natsume, a perverted parody of the way he’d held him before-- _no, it’s not perverted, I’m not doing anything!_ “Natsume,” he says quietly, trying to calm his thudding heart, “You shouldn’t. I’m--I’m only human, you know?” he finishes, a little brokenly.

“So be human and warm me up,” Natsume whispers, his face hot as he nuzzles up underneath Tsumugi’s chin. “Or I’m gonna go back to thinking you’re useless and missing _everything._ ” 

“I’m not talking about cuddling, I mean--you’re old enough to know that this kind of behavior isn’t kind,” Tsumugi insists, one hand coming up to press against Natsume’s back, shivering as he feels the lace. “ _I_ know you’re only dressed like this to get me to do what you want, but someone else might take you seriously. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Natsume can’t help it. He _has_ to hit him. So he does, a solid whack to Tsumugi’s chest as he huffs out a hot breath. “You’re so _stupid_ ,” he bemoans, his head tilting back. “I’m not dressed like this to make you do anything, this is just what I wear to _bed_. But I’m not talking about cuddling either, you idiot, because I’m not mad at you right now and I can feel how hard you are. Do something about it.” 

“Ow,” Tsumugi says belatedly, remembering how much Natume hates it when he doesn’t react to being hit. “You should be doing this with someone you want,” he insists, no matter how he twitches and aches at the idea that _Natsume wears this all the time_. “Like--Subaru likes you, he’s, he’s your age, you like him, don’t you?”

“ _No._ ” Natsume stares at him, and reaches a hand down, curling his fingers around the hard, _obvious_ line of Tsumugi’s cock. Well--he _tries_ to keep staring at him, straight-faced, but his cheeks flush red in short order, and he has to look away, his hand wavering shyly. “Oh. I--I didn’t know it was _that_ big.” 

Well.

Tsumugi moves faster than even he thought he could, the blanket flying off as he rolls Natsume onto his back, sealing his lips to Natsume’s in sudden, frustrated longing, kissing him hard as he presses him down to the bed. His mouth is dry, but his hands are sure, grabbing Natsume’s hands and pinning them to the bed. “It isn’t nice to tease,” he says again, but his voice is low and rough, nothing like his usual cultured speech. 

He plants his knees on the mattress, pressing down against Natsume, letting him feel just what he’d been playing with. “You used to like me. You used to think I was cool--Natsume, I was so _proud_ when you looked at me like that,” he murmurs against that pale cool neck, punctuated with hungry kisses. 

Natsume’s mouth goes dry, and he gulps, trembling as he sinks down into the mattress. He doesn’t feel cold anymore--the opposite, actually, too hot with his face almost hurting from the flush that spreads over it, and his fingers and toes tingling from the sudden, hot rush of arousal. “I...I--” He swallows hard, his fingers flexing, his thighs shaking before they fall open helplessly. He doesn’t _like_ that that’s his reaction, but his body seems to think otherwise when he can feel Tsumugi above him, hard and heavy and unrepentantly hungry. “I...I l-like you, you’re just...” He bites down around a moan, his eyes fluttering shut. “If you...if you d-did stuff like this more, maybe...” 

I like you.

_Stupid, that Natsume climbing into his bed in lingerie, begging him unrepentantly for sex, doesn’t get Tsumugi as much as that one little admission. He bites down on some of the lovely skin in his mouth, then sucks and licks the skin gently, soothing away the hurt. “You act like a cute little kitten,” he says softly, smiling to himself. One of his hands lets go of Natsume’s wrist, moving to pull his own sleeping clothes apart, then down, letting the hard length drag over Natsume’s pale thigh. It’s been so long since he’s done this it feels like the first time, and he has to stop and think of what happens next. Well, surely he can’t be blamed for using a little bit of magic._

He mutters a few words, and feels slippery wetness coat his hand, just before he reaches forward, sliding a finger over Natsume’s tight hole. “Have you...had a man before?”

Natsume gasps, jerking up, trembling as his freed hand immediately buries itself into Tsumugi’s hair. He clings there, a whimper caught in his throat, tension making his legs ache and quiver. “N...nn..no,” he manages to whisper. For as cold as he’d been before, now he feels like he’s on _fire_ , and he can’t quite catch his breath. It’s even worse when he feels Tsumugi’s cock rub against him, and he bites his lip around a groan, his back arching in spite of his shivering. “I...I’ve touched myself before, b-but...” 

Responsibility asserts itself, and Tsumugi huffs out a sigh into Natsume’s neck. He rubs against Natsume again, then abandons his questing, moving instead to wrap one long-fingered hand around both of them, freeing Natsume’s cock from its lace. “Let’s just...do this, then,” he breathes, starting a slow rhythm, rocking his hips down, nipping and sucking at his neck. “Ah...you feel so good like this...”

“Nnnn...not fair,” Natsume groans, his head falling back as he grabs at Tsumugi’s back, digging his nails in and dragging them down his spine. His cock twitches hard within Tsumugi’s hold, but he grumpily squirms, trying to kick at him. “I want...I want you to _fuck me_ ,” he whines, breath hiccuping as he says it. “I’ll be mad if you d-don’t, Tsumugi, _please.”_ He huffs, his head rolling to the side as he glowers at the wall, embarrassed and turned on--which, it seems, is a _terrible_ mix. “A...aren’t I supposed to be your wife?” 

“That’s...really unfair,” Tsumugi gasps, releasing his hold on both of them when it becomes apparent that isn’t what Natsume wants. Of course Natsume would be the sort to offer him everything he’s ever wanted, but in the most ridiculous, demanding way possible. Carefully, he edges his hand down again, then pushes a long finger inside. He closes his eyes, unable to watch Natsume in pain. “Is that...it’s going to be so much more, are you sure you want me to keep going?” _I deserve a medal--no, a sainthood, how could anyone be expected to turn this down?--no, no, don’t think like that, I don’t deserve anything for just doing what’s right!_

The noise Natsume makes is anything but pained. He breathes out a long, whimpering sigh, grabbing at Tsumugi’s arm, panting as he tries to wriggle down. “It...it’s so much easier...if it’s someone else,” he whispers, licking at his lips. “I c-can’t...get that deep.” 

Tsumugi’s head falls forward, pressing against Natsume’s chest as he groans. “If you say things like that,” he warns, hoping he can come across as polite and instructive while his lips are wrapped around a nipple, “other men are going to take advantage of you. I’ll go slow, but most men--don’t say things like that to them...”

He slides in a second finger, making sure to go as deep as possible, tugging at that nipple with his teeth. “Like that? Have you taken that much before? Ah, I could die looking at you, I’d be happy...”

Natsume’s mouth falls open, lips trembling. “I...” His tongue decides to pick now not to work, and he just whines, thighs falling open further as he helplessly arches down, panting when he clenches around those long fingers and feels how deep they’re buried inside of him. “N...not...like that...ah...t-that’s...”

Tsumugi’s mouth on his nipples isn’t gentle, and Natsume feels himself twist underneath the touch, gulping for air, clinging to whatever part of him that he thinks himself capable of when his vision blurs. His fingers end up twisted in Tsumugi’s hair, gripping at his back, and he groans when Tsumugi’s fingers curl, making his hips buck. “Y...you could take advantage of me,” he rasps. “I’d...I want...I l-liked it a lot, when you s-shoved me down and acted like you were...you were gonna do whatever you wanted...” He bites his lip, chest heaving. “Is it...y-you’ll make it fit, right?” 

“You’re so honest about what you want,” Tsumugi breathes, getting another finger in, watching Natsume writhe and squirm for a long minute before he makes up his mind. 

Another spell muttered, and he drags a dripping hand over the thick length of his cock, enough that it feels like surely too much. Pressing against that tight hole steals his breath, and he closes his eyes, sucking in air for a moment before he pauses, looking down at Natsume. One hand comes up, and he brushes the hair out of Natsume’s face, as tenderly as he’s ever done anything. 

But the sweet words he wants to say don’t come. They never do, when Natsume can see him, can mock him. So instead, he just smiles, and pushes in.

Natsume squeaks, trembles, his hands gripping tightly at Tsumugi’s back as he tries to remember how to breathe. It’s _so_ much more than he thought it would be--not that he’s never seen Tsumugi naked before, but never hard, never like this, and the hard, stretching ache of it makes the breath leave his lungs. 

“I...” 

His chest heaves. His thighs shake before they just splay apart, the way Tsumugi’s cock spreads him open leaving him limp and pliant, overheated and overstimulated all the way down to his toes. Natsume tries moving, then gives up with a mewl, his eyes fluttering as his cock throbs between his own legs, somewhere between too-hard to even _process_ what’s stuffing him full and on the verge of already giving up and spilling. “Ts...Tsumugi, i-it’s...” 

For once, Tsumugi isn’t listening.

He groans. He aches. He thrusts, faster and faster when the sweet heat of Natsume’s body is better than anything he’s ever felt. He shoves in hard, not thinking of anything beyond how good it feels, how much of a _relief_ it is to finally have friction on the part of him that throbs with every move Natsume makes, tormenting him for years. 

It’s something akin to animalistic fervor--he hears Natsume’s urgent squeaks, but it doesn’t register as anything but _good_ , anything but the noises of someone he’s _claiming_. His hips only snap in harder, desperate to be buried in that tight warmth sucking him in. For once, even _he_ is allowed to feel good, and nothing has ever felt like this. If Natsume is tense, that only makes him tighter, and Tsumugi slams in so deeply that he hears their hips slap together, a slick noise that just makes his cock swell more.

The noises from Natsume’s throat quickly reduce to nothing more but whimpers and little, breathy squeaks. This is the stuff of his fantasies--he could never, _ever_ tell Tsumugi that...or maybe he already did? He can’t remember. His mind is clouded, hazy and reminding him of nothing but the tight, aching squeeze of his own body around Tsumugi’s huge cock, which shoves into him again and again, relentless, merciless, _everything_ he wants. 

His voice breaks when he feels himself come, slick and messy all over his own stomach. His nails weakly rake down Tsumugi’s back, his toes curling so hard that he feels his legs cramp and spasm as Natsume gasps, struggling for a full breath when it _won’t_ come, and Tsumugi’s so hard inside of him that he can’t think. 

One more rough thrust, and Tsumugi loses it, spilling deep inside Natsume, so deep it almost feels as if he’s hit a wall, groaning deep against Natsume’s shoulder. His hips tremble, twitching forward a few more times, fucking his release in deep before he collapses, cheek pressed against Natsume’s chest. 

Sweat drips down his back. He breathes in and out. At some point, his cock softens, and grows so suddenly sensitive that he has to pull out with a wince. That makes him pull back, touching Natsume’s cheek with one hand. He means to say something gentle, reassuring, supportive, caring, but what comes out is, “You’re a real woman now, I suppose.”

Natsume groans, feeling his cock give another, shameless lurch at that, and he half-heartedly slaps at Tsumugi’s shoulder. “Mean,” he whimpers, feeling the way his body _twinges_ in some particular, unusual ways, and more than that, feels the way he’s _dripping_ , now that he’s so uncomfortably empty. “Y...you came too much, everything’s dripping.” 

Tsumugi yawns, entirely unperturbed by Natsume’s scolding for once. “You asked for this,” he says, unconcerned as he stretches out. Then he reaches down, and thumbs over the sore hole, letting out a rumbling, pleased little sound. “It sounded like you enjoyed yourself. Feels like it, too, my stomach is all wet.”

Natsume squirms with a breathy, mewling sound, but he doesn’t pull away, and instead, buries himself up against Tsumugi’s chest, huffing out an embarrassed breath. “Put it back in,” he mumbles. “I like the way it fits there.” 

“Hold on,” Tsumugi murmurs, reaching down to grab his cock, giving it a few strokes. “Need to get it hard again--keep making that cute noise, that’ll happen fast.” Idly, he reaches up, tweaking a nipple. “You really liked it that much?”

“ _Obviously.”_ Natsume nuzzles up underneath his chin, his breath hiccuping when Tsumugi pulls on his nipples again, and another one of those high, whimpering sounds leaves his throat. “I’ve wanted you to do it for awhile,” he huffs, pushing the heavy fall of his hair back over his shoulder with a trembling hand. “You just...you didn’t get it. I thought maybe you didn’t think I was pretty, or...” 

“Or maybe I didn’t think that a lovely, powerful, talented, beautiful person like you would ever want someone useless like me,” Tsumugi says softly, turning his head to press a kiss to Natsume’s cheek. “Also, you’re too young for me, far too young.”

“Age doesn’t matter with wizards,” Natsume crossly says, lacing his arms around Tsumugi’s neck. “Lord Rei says so. Nnn, _play with me_ , everything feels all nice and tingly and...and _more_ , now that I’m not sealed, it’s good.” 

_Age doesn’t matter with wizards?_ “What has Rei been _doing_?” Tsumugi mutters to himself, but ah, he can’t resist the temptation to do as Natsume asks. He slips his hand down again, and slides in a finger, marveling at how slick it is inside. “I can do this part pretty well,” he assures Natsume, and starts working two of them in, curling and stroking at an angle he remembers so well, claiming Natsume’s lips in another kiss. 

Natsume exhales a pleased, content noise, and arches up when Tsumugi’s fingers curl just right, over that textured little spot that he has so much trouble reaching himself. His own cock twitches eagerly, and he whimpers as he ruts forward, rubbing his cock against Tsumugi’s hip. “Dunno, don’t care,” he breathes. “But Rei’s like...nnn...100 something? And Lord Shu’s younger than you, so~...” 

“So he’s old enough to know better,” Tsumugi says with a little laugh. Then he presses another kiss to Natsume’s cheek, and shifts downward, curling his fingers again as he leans in. His tongue swipes over the head of Natsume’s cock, and he moans softly, wishing he had his spectacles to see better. He’s always imagined Natsume to taste sweet, somehow, but that’s false, and he’s as bitter and salty as any man. Tsumugi finds he doesn’t mind, swirling his tongue around the head, delving eagerly as he cleans off the rest of his come, lapping at the tip for more.

Natsume’s whimpering turns quickly to strangled, squeaky little moans, and he clamps a hand over his mouth, his thighs trembling when Tsumugi’s tongue drags over him, flat and wet and _hot._ “T...that...I...d-don’t care if I’m younger than you,” he groans, his head tilting back. “F-fuck, that feels good. Nnn...I l-like it when everyone comments on...on me being too young to be your wife, I don’t know why, I just...” 

Tsumugi pulls off with a wet slurping noise, licking gently at the shaft, letting the tip rest against his cheek. “You like it when people can see you’re too good for me?” he asks, with a little smile. “For the record, I agree.”

“No, I--” Natsume huffs, pulling on Tsumugi’s hair weakly. “Not _that._ I...” He swallows, his gaze flicking to the side. “Makes me feel like you...you really did buy me, or something,” he mumbles. “Like all the rumors say.” 

“I couldn’t do that.” 

Tsumugi wraps a few fingers around the base of Natsume’s cock, lapping thirstily over and over, then taking it into his mouth, sucking hard, head bobbing a few times. Then he pulls off, and murmurs, “Because you’re priceless to me, Natsume. I...I just want to be some use to you, you can use me however you like...” He’d have to be blind emotionally as well as without his spectacles not to know that that’s what earlier had been, with Natsume wanting someone in him, riling him to the point of madness with that in mind. 

Natsume groans, slumping backwards, his fingers twisting and pulling in Tsumugi’s hair. His cock twitches, dripping over Tsumugi’s lips, and he whimpers, his eyes briefly squeezing shut. “Turn me over,” he pants out, “and _put it in me_ , then. I want--I _like it_ when you push me around, it’s good, it makes me feel good, please don’t make me beg agaiiinnn...” 

“You don’t need to beg,” Tsumugi says softly, and pulls back, grabbing Natsume by the hips and flipping him fast, letting him land hard on his stomach. He doesn’t say the rest of the thoughts going through his head-- _you don’t really want to be sold, you don’t want to know that your parents need money more than they love you, you don’t want to be reduced to what someone will pay for you_ \--and focuses instead on kissing Natsume’s shoulders. “Which is it you want?” he asks, guiding himself to press against that hole again. It’s wet and sloppy now, but if anything, that just makes Tsumugi a little harder. He isn’t fully erect yet, but close enough, and Natsume might kill him if he takes any longer. “You want cruelty? Or just roughness? I love you too much to be really cruel...”

“I…” Natsume gulps, his face hot against the sheets when he buries it down into them, his hair pooling around his head, sticking to his back and tangling up into the lace that still sweatily clings to him. “I…it’s not even…I just…I want you…I want you to t-take what you want.” His cock twitches with the admission, and he huffs, feeling how his hole twitches when Tsumugi rubs against it, the stinging ache making his breath catch. “I…like it when you feel good, without t-thinking about me,” he whispers. “So when you shoved me down like that before…” 

“But...how could I ever not think about you?” Tsumugi whispers, trying to wrap his mind around how anyone, anyone, would be thinking of anything other than Natsume at any time. But...

But it’s what he wants.

_Tsumugi doesn’t understand it, but maybe he doesn’t need to. All he needs is to give Natsume what he wants. That’s easy enough. He ruts forward, rubbing over that dripping hole, reaching down to snap one of the straps against Natsume’s skin. “Spread your legs farther. I want full access to inside of you.” With no more warning than that, he grabs Natsume’s thigh, positioning it where he wants it, and moves again, thrusting forward in one swift thrust, bottoming out before he takes a single breath._

Natsume moans, his back arching even when he wants to sag down into the bed, his entire body trembling and tensing when Tsumugi _finally_ sinks back into him again. He’s in _so_ deep that Natsume forgets how to breathe for a moment, gasping into the sheets as his knees wobble, and he slinks further down—ass in the air, face to the bed, and his chest heaving as his cock _already_ decides that it’s almost time to come. His nails flex into the bed, mindlessly curling there as he _tries_ to wriggle back. “I..it’s really…really big…” he groans, rubbing his cheek down into the bed. “T…tsumugi, you…” 

It feels a little like he’s getting credit for something that he has no control over. It isn’t as if he’d put any effort into having a large one, after all. But that doesn’t matter much, when he can just shove Natsume into the bed, hearing him whine and squeal and... “It’s like you’re mewling,” he marvels, hands firm on Natsume’s hips. “Like a little kitty.” 

He starts thrusting harder, thighs flexing to send him in deep, breath coming fast as he squeezes harder. “A little kitty in heat,” he clarifies. “You know--most virgins don’t like something so large? You must--truly be a cat in heat, then...”

“I…” Hearing that is _embarrassing_ , but it’s not like he can stop making those noises, not when Tsumugi is fucking into him like that. It _aches._ Every muscle feels sore, and his body squeezes down around Tsumugi on its own accord, making Natsume moan and arch even when he wishes he could just lie down and enjoy it. “Nn…I…it’s…t-that’s your fault,” he finally manages to blurt out, feeling the droplets of sweat that drip down his spine when he squirms and claws into the bed. “N…no one said it would feel—hhhhnn…s-so…good…ah!” 

Tsumugi shoves in so deep that Natsume _swears_ he can taste it, and he pants raggedly for a moment, his eyes crossing, his cock just _constantly_ leaking. “There,” he gasps out, his voice high and breathless. “T-that…gods…” 

“Most boys,” Tsumugi manages to say, sitting back on his heels and dragging Natsume’s ass back, letting him get in even deeper with each thrust, “don’t like so much in them. Ahh...and they think it feels good...when there’s less. But you...must really be a kitty in heat, hmm?”

The words make him blush, but at least Natsume can’t see him. That’s what makes him able to keep going, whispering into the blurry night.

Natsume nods mindlessly, his sweaty hair tumbling down into his face as he wriggles back, following the pull of Tsumugi’s hands. “Y-yes,” he whispers, panting open-mouthed when Tsumugi thrusts into him. “I…I wanna be your kitty.” Gods, but his face burns. That almost makes it better, being so embarrassed about how much he enjoys it. “N-not a boy, I’m your—your wife, your cat, please, it feels so good…” 

My wife.

_They’ve said it for years, of course, but it’s always felt silly, like they’re enacting a play that no one would really believe. But now... “I’m going to take you around tomorrow on my arm,” he breathes, closing his eyes and imagining it. “And pull you onto my lap, in front of all the fine nobles--and you’ll squirm and blush, because you’re sore, and all the men will laugh, because they’ll know why you’re sore, because a pretty little girl only gets like that one way, when her old man husband has such a smile, right?”_

Natsume dissolves. The sob that pulls from his throat is broken and overstimulated, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath with every throb of his cock as he spills all over the bed, trembling and shivering with every single word. “I…I always d-dress up for you, b-because I wanted you to do that,” he whimpers, his tongue flicking out to try and catch the embarrassing little trail of drool that drips from his mouth. “P-please…I want…I want e-everyone to know…” 

Tsumugi smiles to himself, pulling Natsume back harder, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. He doesn’t stop when Natsume comes, only grinding in deeper, leaning up to murmur, “You’re so beautiful, that makes it better, doesn’t it? A sort of cute girl, that’s one thing, maybe I like her for her personality--but they all think they know that I bought you for your looks, right?”

He slams in deep, holding it there for a long moment, groaning as Natsume shivers and clenches around him. “Little do they know--that secretly--the wife that could do so much better-- _adores_ it, doesn’t she? My pretty--kitty--in _heat_ \--”

It _hurts_. It hurts, and that makes his cock seriously consider that it’s time to go again, which is both exhilarating and far too much all at once. Natsume just nods, unable to form words for a moment, floundering for purchase and balance when he’s pulled back so roughly that he has no choice but to try and push himself up onto his hands, biting his lip as Tsumugi shoves into him so hard and deep that his vision blurs. “I…I want them to be jealous,” he pants out. “Of you. Of…of what you…get to do to me…” His voice falters again, breaking to a mewling sound that he can’t bite back when he shudders from head to toe. 

“You want--everyone to want you like this.” 

That much, Tsumugi can sort of understand. His hands slide down, then up, caressing every part of Natsume he can reach, lingering again on his sore nipples, teasing and rolling them between thumbs and fingers. “Anyone in particular? Maybe...Sergeant Donolan, that always bows too low to the lady of the house? He probably wants to touch you right here...but I’m the only one that gets to. Or Karon, the baker, he probably wants to be in you like this, ever since you read his palms he’s always trying to touch you...anyone else?”

Natsume’s head shakes back and forth, his breath hiccuping when Tsumugi’s fingers _keep_ toying with his nipples, making them hard no matter how sore they are, throbbing with every pull. “D-don’t make say,” he whispers, his voice threatening to break again when little, lingering shivers race though him, and make him squeeze down onto Tsumugi’s still _very_ hard, very large cock. “’s embarrassing.” 

“I won’t stop until you do,” Tsumugi says, getting a little of his own teasing back now, pulling Natsume back by his nipples. “Ahh...that’s the thing about being old, pretty kitty...the second time...I can go a _long_ time...” He pinches hard, tugging on Natsume’s nipples, even as he grinds in harder.

At that, Natsume just moans, tears springing to his eyes when the tug on his nipples threatens to go straight to his cock every single time. “I-it’s so big, that’s not fair,” he groans, sagging back into the touch all the same, doing nothing to avoid it or twist away. “I wanna sit up in your lap, help me,” he begs, trying to push himself up and failing with trembling arms. “T…then maybe…I’ll tell you.”

Natsume’s moods appear to swing wildly between wanting things his way and wanting to be pushed around and taken advantage of, and Tsumugi gets mental whiplash. Still, his urge to take care of Natsume, to give him everything he wants, is strong, and he pulls out, lifting Natsume and turning him, helping him sit on his lap. “Put it back in yourself,” he urges, cock twitching with how hard it is, how eager to be back inside that hot, tight hole where it feels like he belongs. “Then tell me who it is you want to stare at you when you squirm.”

Natsume bites his lip, but he nods, clinging to Tsumugi with an arm shakily thrown about his shoulders. Tsumugi’s cock feels even bigger in his fingers, somehow, and it takes Natsume’s breath away when he pulls it back to his hole, wincing at how it feels to sink back down onto it when he’s already so slick, so _used._ He squeaks when his knees give out, and he slides down too-fast, suddenly full and trembling on Tsumugi’s lap. It feels like it’s even deeper in him this way, and Natsume flops into his chest, huffing out a breath. “C…Captain Subaru,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. “He’s…he’s so annoying, but I…” 

_I knew it,_ Tsumugi thinks with a little smile, his arms going around Natsume to hold him close, sighing as he sinks down again. “He’d...love the way you feel inside,” he assures Natsume. “I should...tell him so, don’t you think? That you make such pretty faces when you’re full...”

He goes out on a limb, not sure if he’s right, but there’s a suspicion-- “I wonder if Wataru and Rei would like to hear, too?”

His cock gives a little twitch where it presses against Tsumugi’s stomach, and Natsume’s face flushes nearly as red as his hair. “Don’t—don’t tell them,” he whispers, horrified at how he squirms at the idea, and so he buries his face into Tsumugi’s shoulder, biting own on a groan as he shifts in Tsumugi’s lap. “They can’t know, that’s…”

“Embarrassing,” Tsumugi finishes for him, then gasps. “Ahh, you got--so tight when I said that, Natsume...”

His hand reaches down, finger tracing the tight ring of Natsume’s hole where it’s stretched obscenely far around him. “What would they say, if they could see you now? Hmm?”

Natsume jerks at the touch, whining when his body decides it’s a great idea to tighten up even more, trembling and tense when Tsumugi _touches_ him there. “Th…they’d…I don’t…” His nails bite into Tsumugi’s shoulders, clinging helplessly to him. “Maybe…t-they’d scold me, for being like this,” he groans. “I can’t _help it_ , I’m so horny all the tiiiime, ’s your fault…” 

“You want to be scolded?” Of course he does, Tsumugi thinks helplessly, shifting to better bounce Natsume on his lap, up and down over and over, his lungs tightening as he moves faster and faster. Of course he wants to be scolded--Natsume wants the opposite of everything Tsumugi wants for himself--to be embarrassed, to be bossed around, to be taken advantage of, to be scolded, to be exposed. Well, building on that-- “You want them to know you’re a perverted little kitty, right?” he asks, hoping he’s right. “Perhaps your husband should make you...wear a very short skirt tomorrow, and they can see how well you’ve been used, hmm?”

Natsume nods mindlessly, unable to even help grind himself onto Tsumugi’s cock anymore when his legs are so boneless and every aching, sore nerve in his body is _shaking._ “I’m…I’m your wife, I’m your kitty, you can make me do whatever you want,” he whimpers, his breath hot against Tsumugi’s neck. “I want you to feel good, please, Tsumugi, _please…”_

Tsumugi’s muscles are weary and aching, and he groans helplessly, burying his face in Natsume’s hair, kissing his temple as his hips slap up against Natsume’s ass. “Is it too much? I can stop and finish another way, you just...it feels like heaven inside you...”

Natsume’s head shakes, his fingers flexing into Tsumugi’s back. “It’s fine,” he whispers, even as he limply sags into Tsumugi’s chest. “I don’t…I don’t think I can come again, b-but I want you to, you can fill me up and I’ll go back to sleep like that. Maybe..maybe you’ll make an heir finally…” 

Tsumugi had thought he was nowhere near coming again, but that last broken plea from Natsume changes everything. He groans, and buries himself in deep, pleasure crashing over him in a wave so intense it feels like _relief_ , leaving him shaking and exhausted, and completely sated. His hand moves to trace over Natsume’s belly, then gently lifts him off and down onto his back, laying down next to him as he flops over. “Are you full enough?” he asks, his own limbs twitching and trembling, feeling wrung out.

Natsume clenches down, trying to stop all of that mess from escaping out of him, but there’s no helping it when it feels like he’s been spread open for so long that he can barely even close his legs. He feels himself blushing, flustered over how his body isn’t _quite_ listening to him the way he’d like, and he shifts uncomfortably, rolling over to bury his face down into a pillow. “Feels weird,” he moans instead, the fantasy not wholly conforming to reality this time. “I take it back, I don’t want to get pregnant.” 

Tsumugi’s mouth quivers as he tries not to laugh, pulling Natsume close. He reaches over and grabs the discarded blanket from earlier, tugging it over Natsume. “When I can walk again, I’ll ring for the servants to draw you a bath,” he promises, yawning hugely. “Don’t worry, I don’t need you to give me a baby.”

“Good, I’ll die.” Natsume sniffs, huddling close to Tsumugi, burying himself underneath the blanket in a mess of sweaty hair and trembling limbs. “I might die anyway. It felt so g-good when you were doing it, but now it huuurts…” 

Guilt twinges in Tsumugi’s gut again, and he grimaces, petting Natsume’s hair, holding him close. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to hurt you...hold on, I still know a little...”

He takes a deep breath, fumbling for a spell, and whispers the arcane words, dragging a fingertip down Natsume’s spine, leaving a trail of numbness in his wake. His fingertip circles around the rim of Natsume’s hole, numbing the sore skin. “I can’t do it like Shu, but I can do this much. Does it really hurt anywhere else?”

Natsume shakes his head, butting it against Tsumugi’s chest with a content, rumbling exhale of breath when some of the stinging and achiness subsides. “N-no, that’s good,” he whispers, sighing out a soft little breath. “Thank you. Nnhh…I don’t want to get up and get dressed, I want to skip breakfast, stay in bed with me all day…” 

Tsumugi smiles gently, tucking Natsume against his chest, trying to make it look as if that kind of deliberate magic didn’t make him feel more drained than all the sex had. “I’m not sure if you want to hear this, but since it was your first time, I want you to know that you were very, very good at that.”

“Of course I was, I’m _perfect.”_ For all his preening, though, the words make him relax, the last bit of his nerves filtering away as he cuddles up into Tsumugi’s arms. “Everything has different colors, now that the seal is gone,” he says suddenly, squinting into Tsumugi’s chest. “It’s been there for so long…I almost forgot what it felt like to sense magic…”

“Ah, you see it? I’ve always been interested in how other wizards sense magic. Shu and Rei hear it like music, you know, and Mika sees people as hourglasses, isn’t that fascinating?”

“Mm. I see it…but it’s not always accurate. Sometimes, I see what’s there, but sometimes, I see what’s _going_ to be there. It’s hard to tell it apart, at times.” Natsume closes his eyes, and presses his face into Tsumugi’s shoulder. “I saw Wataru’s wings before he even had them,” he murmurs. “But now they’re gone again. I don’t really like that. I don’t like…any of this.” 

“It’s difficult, I know. I’m sorry.” Tsumugi grimaces. “The adults really should have dealt with a lot of this before now, I’m sure. But isn’t it good that you’re feeling things? Doesn’t that prove you’re still alive, and that we can still make a difference?”

“I always feel things,” Natsume crossly says. “You’re the one that gets _weird_. More important is how I don’t have a seal now, so I can go and help. I’m adult enough.” He jabs Tsumugi’s hip with one finger. “You said I’m a woman now, that’s close _enough_.” 

“I already said it was fine, just that you have to let me keep you safe.” Tsumugi strokes Natsume’s hair, then belatedly remembers the poke. “Oh, sorry. Ow.”

Natsume rolls his eyes, smacking him again for good measure. “Just don’t forget that,” he grumpily says. “Or I’ll get really mad and you don’t get to put it in again.” 

“Sorry, sorry. Ow!” Tsumugi thinks for a moment, then muses, “I sort of miss that one. Texture, I mean--that’s mine, I sort of see energies in textures. Is yours colors?”

“Kind of.” Natsume stares up at him curiously, his head cocking. “You never explained _anything_ about why you’re so weird to me,” he complains. “Can you not feel things properly because of your magic?” He pauses, and looks down at his hands, then peers over at Tsumugi’s back. “I think your back is a little bloody, by the way…sorry…?”

“Oh, is it?” Tsumugi doesn’t even move, uncaring. He forces a smile, but Natsume has been forthcoming, so... “I was fairly old when I bloomed. Didn’t really understand my powers. Most kids who bloom wind up doing at least one deliberate thing before they’re found, because it’s hard to pinpoint the really chaotic ones.” Tsumugi shrugs. “Mine was to block my own ability to feel pain, apparently. By the time they found me, I’d done it so thoroughly that they weren’t quite sure how to fix it. They still aren’t.”

“…I guess…that’s not so bad of a thing…” Natsume hedges, frowning. “Even though it’s really weird. But I guess it can be useful, in some circumstances, if you aren’t stupid about it. I just don’t trust you to be smart about it. Turn around, take your shirt off, you don’t need to bleed all over everything.” 

Tsumugi does as he’s told, carefully sitting up so he can fold the shirt. “It’s been a long time. I don’t really remember what it was like, honestly. Just that it was a relief at the time.” He sets it aside, then folds his hands, looking down. “It’s...easier to be honest in the dark, isn’t it? What was blooming like for you? I imagine it’s a lot more impressive as a Nightcloak.”

With some effort, Natsume forces himself to sit up, looking around for something to wipe Tsumugi’s back off with and comes up empty, except for options that require _standing_ and _walking._ Neither of those sound appealing, and the scratches don’t look too terrible, at least. “…I didn’t even realize I did anything,” he softly says, pulling his long hair over his shoulder to twist it around into a thick braid, needing the sweaty mess of it off of his back if nothing else. “But Lord Rei says I made a huge hurricane appear off the coast, and it hit the main island, Redwater. Decimated it. Sailors tried to warn everyone, because they saw it coming, but…” He shrugs, staring down at the bed. “Maybe that’s why I can see things before they happen now, so I can warn people properly.” 

“That’s awful,” Tsumugi says, and gently bats Natsume’s hands out of the way, finger-combing that long hair himself, then starting to braid by feel. He can see it enough with his magic for this, anyway. “To have to live with something like that...it wasn’t your fault, you know. At the Academy, they teach all about that. I used to be a teacher there for a while, you know.”

Natsume sits still while Tsumugi’s hands work, his own eyes lidded, glinting in the dim light as sure as any cat’s. “The Academy sounds…scary,” he quietly says. “After Lord Rei found me…he hid me. There aren’t any sniffers in the Isles, I’m the only wizard to have bloomed there, as far as anyone knows. I mean, you probably already know that, but…” He nibbles at his lower lip. “He was _so_ adamant about me not going there. He called Wataru, begged him not to tell the Emperor about me. I…I didn’t understand why. Not until recently.” 

“It...isn’t a place I would want to see someone like you,” Tsumugi admits, fingers working carefully and methodically, layering one strand over another. “Because you’re a clever, creative, powerful wizard. But to be honest, I wouldn’t have done what Rei did, either. You never had a chance to grow and learn about your power. Ah, I know he had his reasons, I’m not saying he was wrong, but...”

“Wataru agreed, too, and he’s _so_ smart, and _so_ strong, and _so_ cool.” Natsume pouts, peering up at Tsumugi. “They taught me for almost a year before shipping me off here. Then Lord Rei had to go to the Academy because I told him so.”

“But you’ve been locked down,” Tsumugi explains. “There’s only so much that theory can teach a Nightcloak, so I understand why they didn’t think it was important for you to learn while you were sealed, but...” He shrugs. “It could be dangerous. The Academy has a lot of bad practices, that’s part of why I left, but all of us teachers were doing our best to help young wizards learn to use their powers.”

“So you teach me, then, now that I’m unsealed, if you used to be such a good teacher.” Natsume’s eyes flicker, reflecting gold. “I have to figure out how to fix Wataru’s wings, for example—before the Emperor does, so he comes back to us, and doesn’t stay with him anymore.” 

“That won’t happen. He loves you, and I’m sure he loves those wings...but he has a resonant bond with Eichi. You know how powerful those are, don’t you?”

“Yes. And they sound annoying.” 

Tsumugi smiles, and finishes the braid with a careful triple-loop of hair, binding it in place. “Annoying, but powerful. Which is what I think a lot of people would say about your powers, don’t you think?”

“Lord Rei doesn’t like when I have prophecies about him,” Natsume airily says. “I think that’s why he sealed me up, more than anything; he didn’t want me to see anything else about him. Nnn, resonant bonds don’t even make good sense, though. What if you don’t really love the person you’re bonded with? Or is that a prerequisite? Doesn’t seem fair.” 

“From what I’ve heard, it isn’t. Shu and Rei formed one the first day they met.” Tsumugi shivers. “It sounds very frightening to me. I’d hate it if someone was forced to depend on me. I always seem to let people down, and then they couldn’t even leave me...”

“Are…are people stuck together, even if they aren’t in love, or even if they disliked each other?” Natsume asks, horrified. “That doesn’t seem right. Lord Rei kept avoiding the subject, but when he finally went to the Academy and came back, he seemed so happy.” 

“I think it might be like birth? Where, you don’t know this baby, but your body and soul tell you that you shouldn’t throw this particular troublesome human in the ocean?” Tsumugi spreads his hands. “I’m not really sure. But I do know that I’ve never met anyone with a resonant bond that seemed unhappy, so...perhaps it’s close. Or perhaps they really do only affect people and the person they will truly find happiness with.”

“Too weird,” Natsume complains, blowing a strand of his bangs out of his face with a huff. “I don’t like it. If I get a vision about you having to go off to the Academy to find the one you resonate with, I’m not telling you about it.” 

“Eh? You want me to be miserable?”

“No. You’re just not allowed to leave.” 

Warmth flutters in Tsumugi’s heart. “If it means anything to you,” he offers, “I’d rather stay here with you than make a resonant bond with someone else any day. Every day. For the rest of my life.”

“Good.” Natsume’s lower lip wobbles, and he bites it to make that stop _immediately._ “You better mean that. Now go get me Sora, I want a bath and I don’t want to look embarrassing in front of all of these soldiers that keep coming through.” 

Tsumugi leans over and presses a kiss to Natsume’s cheek. “As Milady wishes.”


	36. Chapter 36

It’s not until much later that day that Natsume finally emerges, clean and perfectly dressed as always, if not...bruised, in a few odd places. 

His neck is the unsightly part that’s difficult to hide, courtesy of High Harbor fashions, and careful arrangement of his hair does...well, it does very little. Natsume huffs about it for a bit, but finally forces himself out, brow furrowed in irritation, daring anyone to speak on it. 

Which brings him to the next task on his list: knocking on Shu’s door warily. 

Now unsealed, it’s unnerving to feel the low-key, but constant rumble of power behind that door. Natsume shifts nervously, eyes trying to unfocus underneath the pressure of it. Maybe asking for that was...an untimely request. 

“One moment!”

There’s a shuffling from inside, then the door opens, revealing Shu looking a bit rumpled from sleep, tugging his nightcloak over a long ruffled nightgown. His eyes are wild as he looks Natsume up and down, then ushers him feverishly inside. “What have you done? Come in, I’ll put it back on immediately.”

“No--no, that’s not why I’m here,” Natsume immediately protests, taking a hurried step back, hands held up defensively. “I...I wanted it off. I want to be able to _help._ Please don’t put it back, Lord Shu, I’ll--” He swallows. “I’ll just ask Tsumugi to take it off again.” 

Shu folds his arms, lips pursed. “You’re making a mistake. A foolish one. You don’t have the training of a Nightcloak, no matter what your power is. But come inside, I won’t bind you if you don’t want to be bound.”

“Lord Rei and Wataru trained me personally for a year,” Natsume huffily replies, smoothing his skirts before he steps inside. “I’m not _helpless._ And more than that,  I thought...now might be a good time for everyone to have access to my power when the Emperor doesn’t.” 

Shu waves a hand. “Perhaps. I’m not the strategist.” He shuts the door, locking it out of habit as he turns to survey Natsume critically with his eyes, rather than his magical senses. “You’re a mess, child.”

Natsume’s face flushes, and he gingerly takes a seat, trying not to wince or wobble when he does. “...May I be frank?” he says, trying not to whimper when he settles down. “I didn’t expect the _aftermath_ of sex to be so _uncomfortable._ ” 

Shu’s fingers glitter with violet fire. “Where does it hurt? I can numb it, or call Izumi to fix it entirely. If you’re in that much pain, he likely wasn’t doing it right. No one should be that rough with you.”

“No, no, he did it right, I...I asked him to be that rough.” Natsume winces. “Which was fun at the time, but now...ah...I’ll be fine, please don’t call Izumi, that would be too embarrassing. Actually, I...was wondering.” He shifts, glancing down at his lap. “If you could make me something, um, even sexier? He really likes what I wear normally, but I don’t want it to get _ruined_ , so...” 

“What, you want him to turn you black and blue next time?” Shu clicks his tongue, pulling out a sheet of drafting paper, starting to sketch out a few designs. “If you’re relying on clothing to get him interested in you, he’s not good enough for you. And just because he’s an exuberant sort doesn’t mean he should get out of being a tender lover--I’ll have some words with him, next time I see him hanging around in the stables.”

“I didn’t even know he liked my underthings that much,” Natsume protests with a sniff, fiddling with a ruffle on his dress. “He’s really not that exuberant, you don’t have to say anything to him. It took a lot of pushing to make him be like this, he’s the one that wanted to be really careful, I just...” He groans, burying his flushed face into his hands. “I couldn’t _wait_ anymore, we could have _died_ when the Emperor captured us, and we’re supposed to be married, how is that supposed to be real if we haven’t even _done it?_ ”

“Wait, wait. This was _Tsumugi?_ ”

“I...yes? Why do you sound so surprised?” 

“I assumed you were talking about that boy with the orange hair, of course.” Shu scribbles out his entire drawing, starting again from scratch with a different partner in mind. “I also wouldn’t have thought Tsumugi capable of this sort of thing. In any way.”

Natsume’s mouth falls open. “I...Subaru, no, he’s--he’s too annoying, and obsessed with that stableboy, besides!” He shifts uncomfortably again, huffing primly. “Tsumugi is more than capable. He’s...” His blush darkens. “He’s very aggressive when he wants to be.”

“Sounds incorrect, but to each his own,” Shu mutters under his breath. “Just...lie down on your stomach on the bed, it hurts me to look at you. For heaven’s sake, you’re _bowlegged_.”

Natsume carefully, painstakingly hauls himself up, dragging himself to the bed only to collapse again with a grateful noise. “He,” he says, his face buried into one of Shu’s fluffy pillows, “is _very_ large. I didn’t...anticipate that. Or how much it would hurt later...” 

A tinge of envy nags at Shu. It looks nice, to feel so destroyed by the act of lovemaking. He wants to send out a thought to Rei, but it’s day, and he’ll be asleep if he can. Ah, well. He’s waited this long, he can keep waiting (while everyone he knows, everyone younger than he, gets what they want). Lips pursed, he turns back to his sketching. “Make certain you’re being firm with him. Hitting him won’t work if he does something you don’t like, he doesn’t feel things like a normal human. He was one of my teachers at the Academy, did I ever tell you that?”

“No, but he told me.” Natsume grabs at the pillow, hugging it as he twists partially onto his side. “He’s...much more skilled than he lets on, and that annoys me,” he grouses. “I used to think he was so cool, for standing up against the Academy, but then he just kept acting...the way he acts, and I couldn’t _help_ but think he was _annoying._ I think that’s fair.” 

“I used to hate him,” Shu admits. “He was at the Emperor’s side during some of his...most questionable decisions. I watched it happen. I suppose I’ll never truly understand what it was like from his perspective, especially after the life he lived as a child, but...”

“I don’t know anything about that part,” Natsume admits. “He doesn’t talk about it, and it’s always too weird for me to ask, anyway.” His feet kick slowly. “He told me the Emperor tried to force a resonant bond on him...that’s...”

“Sounds like the Emperor,” Shu says dismissively. “He doesn’t understand humanity at all. Mm, but I can tell you that after Tsumugi left, he walked out of the Academy, then turned a mountain into a volcano, just because he could, then turned the whole thing to dust. He’s a mad dog. You don’t rehabilitate something like that, you put it down.” 

His pen is trembling, so he sets it down. “As for Tsumugi’s childhood...admittedly, I don’t know as much as some, but Rei told me quite a bit of it.”

_The Emperor sounds terrifying_ is what’s on the tip of his tongue, but saying that makes him sound young and weak, so Natsume bites it back. Instead, he shifts on the bed, cuddled up around the pillow, watching Shu. “I don’t want Tsumugi to hate me if I ask other people about it,” he quietly says. “So...don’t tell me. Though he’d deserve it. He makes me so mad, when he talks about the Emperor sometimes. He almost keeps trying to apologize for him still. He also says he doesn’t agree with how Lord Rei kept me out of t”he Academy.” 

“Eichi would have used you,” Shu says, with an air of absolute finality. “You would be kept in a cage and fed as much as necessary for you to give your prophecies, or you would have been killed, if using you didn’t give the Emperor the results he wanted.” 

He settles on a design at last, and starts embellishing it. “Though, apart from that, I must admit that Tsumugi is sort of correct. If the Emperor weren’t there...yes, there is much to learn in the Academy. It isn’t the place itself that’s a stain on magic itself, it’s that blasted Emperor and his cronies.”

Natsume’s stare is a little wide-eyed now, and for admittedly good reason. “I...I don’t ever want to go there,” he says. “It’s not like I can control them, or make them be about certain things.” He pauses, then asks the question that’s been weighing on him, and making him nervous. “You...do you think that Lord Wataru...is one of the Emperor’s cronies now? He was always so kind to me, and he helped hide me...” 

“You’re asking the question that I ask myself every day.”

Shu sets his pen down, this time to wipe the ink off his fingers, then rub at his own temples. “He...was one of my dearest friend,” he says softly. “And in his own way...I don’t even blame him for hunting me. I do truly want him to be happy. And he’s found that happiness in a way that I personally revile. I find such a thing disgusting, but...there’s no fighting a resonant bond. And what the Emperor did to him...” 

His fingers start shaking, and he folds them firmly in his lap. “When he and I fought, just the once, I...I have never...been the same. I don’t know what he did to Wataru, but I know that Wataru and he fought, once, over the ocean, where no one would be harmed by the fallout. They say that the sun didn’t set for three days. After that, Wataru has worked with him, ever since. The Emperor...he wields powers that I can neither fully explain nor understand. So, no. I don’t believe that Wataru is truly his creature. But I may be a fool.”

“It scares me.” The admission is small and quiet, and Natsume curls up more firmly around his chosen pillow. “When I met him...he didn’t have his wings yet, but I thought I saw them, for a minute. It works like that, sometimes--future things blur with current things, it gets very confusing.” He frowns. “But now they’re gone again...maybe he’ll go back to the way he was when I met him. He was so nice and...and he taught me so much. I don’t want him to hate me, or have to hunt me.” 

“I wonder if he would.” Shu’s voice is soft, but he shakes his head. “I don’t like to assume anything, around the Emperor. I...I know what being broken by him feels like.” There’s a quaver in his voice that he hates, and he looks away, out the window. “People change, or are forced to change. I don’t know if their resonant bond is just that strong, or if he did something else to Wataru. The wings...are gruesome.”

“He seemed to like them so much, though.” Natsume burrows down, huffing. “He didn’t even look at me when he came here. Didn’t he recognize me? Or maybe he was just trying to protect me...in which case he hasn’t really changed, maybe he’s just faking the way he is now--he can’t really love someone so terrible, can he? Wataru’s too good.” His lower lip wobbles. “If Lord Rei were in charge of the Academy, I’d go. Why won’t more wizards help him?” 

Shu sighs, and moves closer to the bed, reaching out to pat Natsume’s arm. “Because they’re afraid, like you. Like...some others,” he finishes on a lump in his throat, not wanting to admit too much. “The Emperor has ruled the Academy for almost a hundred years. I don’t know anyone except Rei that remembers the Academy without him. It’s hard to imagine a world free of his influence.” Shu laces his hands together tightly. “But we have to try.”

Natsume nods, and slowly unfolds himself, reaching out with grabbing fingers. “You should cuddle me,” he says quietly. “And I can read your palms. I used to do that for my mom, when she was nervous about things.” 

“But I’m designing, you _asked_ me to do this, what a horribly demanding brat you are,” Shu lectures, climbing onto the bed and wrapping his arms around Natsume from behind. He offers up his palms, laying his head next to Natsume’s on the pillow. “What do you see in my future? I’m not afraid.”

“It’s not like I expect new clothes _today_ ,” Natsume sniffs, snuggling back against Shu and grasping at his hands. His thumbs trace over the lines of Shu’s palms, his eyes unfocusing. “Power,” he murmurs, his thumb stilling for a moment. “So _much_ power...not...like a Nightcloak’s power, like a demon’s power.” 

“Good. Ah, maybe I have Rei’s child growing in me after all, heh.”

“...How do you avoid that?” Natsume suddenly asks, veering wildly off-course. “Getting pregnant. I don’t want to, not right now.” 

“...it was a joke,” Shu clarifies. “Did Rei’s instruction not include sexual education? Men can’t bear children. Oh, Rei teases me and pretends that demons can, and can sire babies with those of any gender, but he’s obviously lying. The reproductive system is only accessible through the vulva. If you have  a penis, it doesn’t matter how many skirts you wear. There are no anal children.”

“Not even magically?” Natsume tilts his head back, blinking up at him. “That seems...inconvenient. What if two men are married and they want a child at some point, though?” 

“Natsume, two men can’t get married.”

“That sounds fake.” 

Shu snorts. “Unfair, yes. But fake? It’s always been this way.”

“That’s stupid, then. Why not? I mean, aren’t you and Lord Rei married?” Natsume presses. “Everyone talks about you as if you are. Like how they talk about me and Tsumugi.” 

“But we aren’t.” Shu shrugs. “Most of the country just thinks of us as perverts. If it were known that the prince and Izumi were lovers, he’d be declared unfit to lead--he might even be killed. That’s the reality of the world, though I hear they’re more lenient in the North. But even there, marriage is not possible.”

“Stupid.” Natsume twists in Shu’s arms, burying is face into his chest. “What do you think of the prince?” he quietly asks. “I eavesdropped on a conversation he and Izumi had in the baths one night. He’s not very confident, and that...worries me, especially now that Izumi came back here without him, and hasn’t said anything about it.” 

“I think kings are all foolish,” Shu says bluntly. “But this one has human kindness, even if he’s a fool. The current king is a monster by my standards. He’s essentially caused the unending war on the Western front with his awful policies, and I’ve seen firsthand what kind of destruction that causes. Oh. That reminds me, we’re going West.”

“Why?” Natsume grasps for Shu’s hand again, idly examining the lines in his palm once more. “Not complaining, just wondering what to expect. I’ve never been West. You have an _insanely_ long love line, did you know that?” 

“What does that mean, lots of love? A long-lasting love, or a very deep love? Or, heh, a very old lover?”

“Usually, it means a great capacity for love or skill in relationships. Is Lord Rei a very good lover?” Natsume’s eyes are sparkling, and he might be a bit _too_ interested. “When _I_ met him, he was still bedding anyone that struck his fancy--and he had short hair, and always wore his shirt open, and he was so pale, which made him stand out in the Isles so _much_ , but he was so handsome with his dark hair and long eyelashes, men and women kept _throwing_ themselves at him, especially because he can sing and play the violin...” 

“He’s an incredibly talented lover,” Shu assures him. “Those men and women were lucky they got to him before I took him off the market, and I’ll thank them for teaching him expertise that he can use to make my life better.”

“He always turned the ladies away...which I guess I understand, I don’t want to do it with a lady, either,” Natsume says with a little shrug. “Have you done it with him yet? You could tell me about it, you could.” 

“I’ve done...many things with him.” Shu’s mouth twists. “Fortunately or unfortunately, he’s something of a, well, sex wizard. Making love to his bonded partner will not only destroy the seal on him, it’ll leave him completely vulnerable for several minutes. So, we have to time it properly.”

“Oooh. Maybe that’s what it means, then...” Natsume snatches Shu’s hand back, examining the lines once more. “So cool. Why are we going West when we could sneak into the Academy and you could have him and blow it up from the inside out?” 

“Because Rei has a plan,” Shu says wearily, curling his other arm around Natsume’s waist. “And I won’t interfere, even if I don’t know what it is. We’re going West because Arashi needs us to. There’s a substantial population int he West that’s wavering on whether to support Leo for the throne, or support his father, and they respect wizards more than anyone. If anyone can convince them, two Nightcloaks can. You wanted to be useful? Here’s your chance.”

“I really... _really_ want to help,” Natsume quietly agrees, and he nuzzles up underneath Shu’s chin, satisfied with this cuddling arrangement. “So of course I’ll go. I still have the cloak Wataru gave me. Is Tsumugi coming, too? Ah, leaving Sora behind makes me worried, though...” 

“He has to grow up eventually. You can bring him, if you’re worried, but it will be much more dangerous where we’re going. And no, Tsumugi will stay behind to hold down the Eastern front. It would be confusing if he were seen with you as a Nightcloak, anyway.”

“Everyone still thinks we’re married, though,” Natsume points out. “I don’t see why that’s confusing...it’s not like I look any different at any given point.” 

Shu blinks. “Because you’ll be dressed as yourself, of course. In male clothes.”

Natsume blinks back at him, his brow furrowing. “I’ve...never worn boy’s clothes.” 

“Never?” Shu frowns, thumb stroking over Natsume’s ribs. “Even before you bloomed?”

Natsume shakes his head. “My mom used to tell fortunes, read star charts, things like that, and she used to bring me along to her readings. On the Isles, it’s bad luck for boys to be part of those ceremonies...so she just dressed me up as a girl so I could help.” 

“Well, then it’s time to learn. Don’t worry,” Shu assures him, “I’ll make you very nice male clothes.”

“But I don’t _want_ to,” Natsume protests. “I don’t even know how to _sit_ like a boy. Boys don’t have long hair like mine, either, and I don’t want to cut it. Why can’t I keep dressing and acting like I always have?” 

“Plenty of boys have long hair. You can’t keep doing it because in the West, they don’t listen to women and they don’t listen to men who act like them. Hmm...have you ever seen the way Captain Arashi acts around people from the Capital? When he drops his voice and starts scowling at everyone?”

“They have long hair, but they don’t _style_ it like mine.” Natsume’s frowns, looking down. “I...I know how he acts, and it makes me unhappy. I don’t know if I can fake it like that. I don’t know how to act like a typical boy or anything like that. Even Lord Rei and Wataru kept raising me as a girl, and...and that’s how I like it.”  His lower lip wobbles. “I mean, I’ll try, because I want to help, but...” 

“You’re a problem, you know,” Shu scolds. “I didn’t know this was an issue. I would have changed my phrasing if you’d told me this earlier, and I would have been able to devise a plan. Well, fine, I’ll go alone. I’ll take Tsumugi, you stay here in High Harbor.”

“No, no, I’ll go, I’ll go!” Natsume clings to him, staring up at him with wide, wet eyes. “I’ll try really hard. I...I don’t know how to be a boy, though, so you’ll have to help me, I don’t want to embarrass you or anyone else.”

“Well, fine. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you what you need to know. Hmph, at least people expect wizards to be somewhat strange in any case. We have something of a reputation in the West, or so I understand.” Honestly, it had been _one_ grove of trees that he’d disintegrated, that _one_ time.

Natsume nods, clutching more tightly to Shu. “I still only want to wear your clothes, though,” he murmurs. “Nothing else is any good. I still get to be beautiful, right? Most boys are so ugly and they dress poorly.” 

“I’ll make you lovely lacy underthings,” Shu promises, “and then your male clothes over them, and then your Nightcloak. Honestly, do you think _my_ clothes are ugly and poor?”

“No, but you’re the exception.” Natsume pouts. “And Lord Rei, I suppose, but don’t you make all of his clothes, too? You’re so _good_ at it.” 

Shu preens. “Yes, well, of course I’m good at it, I’m incredibly talented, you know!  And I wouldn’t put you in anything unflattering. I’ve been planning this sort of outfit for you for months. So. What else can you see in my palms, besides the fact that my lover is skilled?”

Natsume pulls Shu’s hand back up again, carefully examining. “It’s not that your lover is skilled--it’s that you’re skilled in _love_ , it doesn’t necessarily have to be sex,” he says, eyes tracing the lines. “You don’t have a very long life line, but that can just mean that you always put yourself before others. Lord Shu is very warm in that way, after all...” 

“Nonsense, I’ve never been told something like that in my life.”

“Kitties know the best, most warm places to cuddle up to,” Natsume says without batting an eye. “So it has to be true, because I’m here.” 

Shu makes a strangled noise, squeezing Natsume tightly. “How can you say such cute things with a straight face? You must drive Tsumugi crazy. If I weren’t bonded...well.”

Natsume beams, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “No, if you weren’t bonded, you’d be kissing Mika,” he bluntly says, snuggling closer all the same. “But it’s okay. I made Lord Rei go and find you, he was cranky about it but now he really loves you.” 

“If I were bonded, I could do whatever I like,” Shu insists. “But...ah, you’re probably right. You’re the soothsayer, aren’t you? Hmph. I suppose you deserve some sort of a reward for forcing Rei into responsibility.”

Natsume stares up at him through his lashes. “Just keep making me pretty clothes, that’s all I really want.” 

“And healing you when you bully men twice your age into rough sex.”

“I didn’t ask for healing!” Natsume huffs. “I just wanted somewhere to hide and lie  down for a little while. I don’t want anyone to make fun of me.” 

“How unfair of them. And I get mocked enough for my virginity, you’d think they’d make up their minds about what’s mockable.”

“Why do they mock you for that? That’s stupid. I’ll hit them if I see them doing it.” 

“Mika thinks I’m too old to be a virgin. But he thought eleven was too old, so I’m going to assume his logic is somewhat flawed.”

“...I think that’s safe to assume.” Natsume nuzzles at Shu’s shoulder. “I don’t think you’re too old.”

“Yes, but you don’t think Tsumugi is too old,” Shu says dryly, though he nuzzles into Natsume’s shoulder in turn nonetheless. “So your opinion is no more valid than Mika’s, I think.”

“Lord Rei says age doesn’t matter with wizards,” Natsume insists. “You don’t think _he’s_ too old, so Tsumugi can’t be, either.” 

“Hmm. I suppose you have a valid point.” Shu smiles to himself, making certain that Natsume can’t see him. “You watch yourself with him, though. There’s more to him than what you see. He’s been that bastard’s right hand for too long not to have it changed him.”

“I know.” Natsume’s eyes lid before they slide shut entirely. “But I don’t hate that, so long as he only looks at me now.” 

“I just remember something Rei told me.” Shu pets Natsume gently, then shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. Go to sleep, kitty.”


	37. Chapter 37

“He thinks I’m _ugly.”_

Natsume’s entrance is that statement and that statement only, and his beeline towards Shu, tears in his eyes, makes it apparent that only Shu is supposed to be in on this knowledge. Izumi stares over his cup of tea unhelpfully. ‘Ugly’ isn’t a word he’d use any day of the week with Natsume—not from the first night he met the kid climbing out of the baths and dressing up as a girl, and certainly not now, when all of that hair of his is twisted back in a simple, pin-straight tail, and he’s dressed in the fine clothes of a noble boy for a change. 

“If _he_ t-thinks I’m ugly, what will everyone else think?” Natsume whimpers, clinging to Shu. “I can’t do this, he won’t even talk to me, I changed my mind.” 

“You are beautiful, and how dare you insinuate that my clothing could make you look any less so?” Shu demands, though his arms go immediately around Natsume in the most protective embrace he has.

Arashi throws a grape high in the air, then catches it in his mouth, popping it with gusto. “Who thinks you’re ugly, darling? Do me and Izumi need to rearrange his face?”

“They’ve got piss poor taste, whoever they are,” Izumi bluntly says. “I mean, I’d _definitely…_ “

“I-it’s not your clothes’ fault, I’m just ugly,” Natsume huffs, burying his face into Shu’s neck as he crawls unrepentantly into his lap. “I look bad as a boy, why can’t I just keep dressing as a lady?” 

“Because my beloved countrymen,” Arashi says, with a sarcastic sigh, “hardly listen to anyone less manly than a bricklayer, unless they’re a wizard. Ugh, I really _don’t_ want to come, but you’ll all get into trouble if no one guides you through. Now, _who_ doesn’t think you’re beautiful?”

“Tsumugi, right?” Shu guesses. “Why do you think he thinks you’re ugly, kitten?”

Natsume sniffs and nods, unmoving from Shu’s arms. “Because he w-won’t even talk to me,” he whispers. “Every time I come into a room, he just makes up an excuse to leave—he won’t look at me, he won’t say _hello…”_

“You can do better, anyway,” Izumi dismisses with a flutter of his hand. “No real loss.”

Natsume promptly bursts into tears. Mika sighs where he sits at Shu’s feet, shaking his head, and Izumi blinks rapidly. “What? Seriously, he’s not even that—oh, c’mon, don’t _cry_ , you’re too pretty to cry. It…it was just a joke, anyway!”

“It’s called tact, Izumi,” Shu says disapprovingly, stroking Natsume’s hair. “I’m stunned at how little you’ve heard of it.”

“He’s an _awful_ brute,” Arashi assures him, flicking a grape at Izumi’s forehead. “ _Honestly_.”

“Besides, Tsumugi definitely doesn’t think you’re ugly.”

Izumi lifts his hands in exasperation. “I just think he’d be better off with someone closer to his own age, someone that isn’t so—“

“Stop,” Mika interrupts this time. “You gotta.”

Natsume sniffles again, lifting his face enough to stare at Shu with large, wet eyes. “He d-does,” he hiccups. “He’s never avoided me like _this_ —it’s because I’m not cute now.” 

Shu rolls his eyes, and grabs Natsume’s face in his hands, squishing his cheeks together. “What does Tsumugi avoid?” he asks firmly.

Natsume blinks slowly through his tears. “Happiness.” 

Arashi snorts. Shu ignores him. “Exactly. And why, then, is he avoiding you now?”

“Ooh!” Arashi chimes in. “I know, I have an idea! He’s a pervert who likes little boys, and darling Natsume finally looks like one!”

“H-he likes my lacy underthings, boys don’t wear those—“

Mika exhales a skeptical noise. 

“So he doesn’t really like boys that much! H-he was so happy when I finally told him I liked being his wife, so now I’ve ruined it…” 

“Good lord,” Izumi mutters, downing back his tea. 

“This is an absurd conversation,” Shu says with a sigh. “Look, just go corner him, lock him in the room with you, and push him against a wall. And don’t you dare forget that you’re vastly too good for him, do you hear me?”

“He’s still going to turn me down,” Natsume unhappily says. “I’m _serious_ , he definitely thinks I’m ugly now…”

“Listen,” Izumi says, unable to bite his tongue again. “If you want a guy to fuck you, he _will_ fuck you. It’s even easier when you’re so pretty. Go climb him like a tree, grab his hands and put them on your ass, he’ll get the idea if his dick works.”

Natsume sniffs. “It works.”

“Good, then make it do its job again. He’s old, you don’t have much time left.” 

Natsume sits back, gingerly wiping at his eyes. “ _I_ thought I looked cute,” he moodily grumbles. 

“Until someone tells me that my clothes look bad,” Shu snaps, turning Natsume physically around to face the door, “I will continue to assume that everyone finds you beautiful. Go out there. Do it for those of us who have a stupidly mysterious and honorable lover who doesn’t want to blow up the world, so you’re not allowed to have sex even now that I’m finally free of that stupid underwear, and--”

He bites his tongue, cutting himself off. “Anyway. Just go.”

“I have offered dozens of times,” Izumi dryly tosses over. “Just for the record.”

Natsume huffily nods, and he stumbles towards the door, albeit nervously. “If he still acts like I’m ugly after this,” he mumbles, “I quit.” 

Finding Tsumugi is easy. Cornering him isn’t too hard…but it’s not so much ‘cornering’ on Natsume’s part as it is slinking into Tsumugi’s study and nervously locking the door behind himself. Being as bold as Shu and Izumi suggested is easier said than done, and Natsume hesitates, hands linked behind himself. “Tsumugi.”

“Yes?” Tsumugi’s answer is cheerful, until he looks up. His breath stutters, and he looks down again quickly at his book. The words swim in his vision, and his stomach flips. “N-Natsume, you’re--ah, you’re here, perhaps I should go--”

“ _Why?_ ” Natsume’s eyes narrow, and he focuses hard on glaring instead of looking sad, biting his lip in an attempt to keep it from wobbling. “You keep running from me—do you…” He nervously shifts, looking down at his feet. “D-do you not like the way I look?”

Tsumugi moves before his mind catches up with his body, almost as if he’s helplessly drawn to Natsume, his hands coming up without permission. “Sorry in advance,” he murmurs, then, helplessly, keeps apologizing as he lurches forward, pressing kisses to Natsume’s cheek, then his forehead, then his lips. Then he grabs Natsume’s hips, the kissing something he’s helpless to stop as he hoists him onto his desk, panting between kisses. “I can’t--look at you--in public--when you’re--like this--”

Oh. _Oh._ That’s _not_ the reaction Natsume expects, and a little squeak escapes his lips when Tsumugi scoops him up like he weighs nothing. “I—“ He’s cut off by another kiss, and his face flushes, his hands helplessly lifting to grasp at Tsumugi’s arms, clinging there. “I thought…you thought I was ugly,” he whispers, squirming where he sits. “I’ve never dressed as a boy before…” 

“Natsume...”

Tsumugi can’t help himself, and he bites at Natsume’s lower lip, sucking it hard as he slides a hand up between his thighs. “The dress is the only thing keeping me from jumping on you in public. Like this, I...ah, you’re exactly my weakness, unfortunately...”

“O-oh,” Natsume gasps, whimpering as he lurches forward to the edge of the desk, his thighs spreading automatically. His fingers curl helplessly around Tsumugi’s wrist, nails biting into his skin as his cock twitches, already embarrassingly hard. “You…you should’ve just said that, then you could’ve done this already…”

“Let me suck it this time,” Tsumugi begs, biting Natsume’s ear, sucking urgently on the lobe. “Please, you look so good, I want to taste you, all of you...”

Natsume whines, kicking his feet against Tsumugi’s desk in frustration. “But I want you to put it _in me_ ,” he huffs, squeezing his thighs against Tsumugi’s hips as he tugs him forward, arms slung around his neck. “Aren’t I cute? I want to make cute noises when you shove it in me agaaaiiin…Tsumugiiii…” 

“Last time you came about six times,” Tsumugi groans, hand shaking as he stuffs it into Natsume’s pants. He licks his lips, his own cock hardening even faster than when Natsume was straddling him in lingerie. “At least give me the first one, please...”

Natsume gasps a the touch of Tsumugi’s hand, and he arches with a breathy little moan, his nails biting into Tsumugi’s back. “They’re right, you really are a pervert,” he whimpers. “F-fine, just—just do it already, make me feel really good.” 

Tsumugi pauses, face worried, hand stilling. “Wait, who thinks I’m a pervert?”

A low, warning hiss escapes through Natsume’s teeth. “If you stop, I’m going to make you wish you were never born.”

“Oh, oh, right, very well. But can we talk about it later?”

Tsumugi drops to his knees before he gets a response, and his fingers move nimbly over the laces at the front of Natsume’s trousers. His hands then slide down, cupping over the slender lines of Natsume’s legs. His voice is a low, shaky whisper when he moans, “You look so good like this, I’ll never keep my hands to myself, everyone really will think I’m a pervert...”

“Good,” Natsume huffs, fisting his fingers up into Tsumugi’s hair, tugging helplessly. “Touch me more, you made me really mad when you kept avoiding me. Now you have to make it up to me, or else.” 

Tsumugi peels Natsume’s trousers down, and immediately lurches forward, dragging his tongue over the head of Natsume’s cock before he sucks it down to the root in one gulp. His face nestles against curly hairs, and he groans, throbbing and aching in his trousers, mouth watering so freely it drips from where his lips are sealed around Natsume’s cock.

Natsume gasps and arches forward, not expecting to have his cock so _thoroughly_ swallowed, and by such an eager mouth, besides. His fingers curl against Tsumugi’s scalp as his hips buck forward helplessly, a breathless little whimper escaping his throat when his cock drips freely over Tsumugi’s tongue. “Tsumugiii…” he groans. “I…if you keep…keep doing that, I’m gonna come so fast…” 

Tsumugi pulls back, intending to talk, but he leans forward again, unwilling to let the tip slip out of his mouth, diving back in a few times to suck on the head. A tear rolls down his cheek from sheer need, his hands fisting in Natsume’s trousers. “It’s fine,” he gasps, tonguing the tip, teasing out another bead of liquid. “Whenever--I just want you to love this, I want you to be happy--”

Natsume’s eyes glaze, and his hips thrust forward on their own accord, sliding past Tsumugi’s lips again to rub against that teasing tongue. “I-it’s—ahhn—it’s really…g-good,” he whimpers, slumping forward, bent over Tsumugi’s head, clinging to the curls of his hair as he ruts forward without thought, unable to stop himself when he’s so _hard_ , when Tsumugi’s mouth is so hot, when he just keeps telling him to do what he wants… 

He spills with a ragged, breathless noise, the mess not entirely making it into Tsumugi’s mouth when he can help but grind forward. “Tsumugi—Tsumuugiii…a-ah, gods, I…” 

Tsumugi swallows, gulping down the bitter, salty liquid as it hits his tongue. His eyelashes flutter, and he reaches up, wiping his hand through the mess, then bringing it to his lips, licking the rest and swallowing it down. “Thank you,” he breathes, leaning forward to suckle and lap Natsume clean. “Thank you, thank you, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Natsume whines, twitching and squirming underneath Tsumugi’s tongue, the overstimulation making his toes curl. “Tsumugi…nhhh, too muuuch…” He huffs, his face hot as he pulls on Tsumugi’s hair. “S-stop licking it, I’m going to die. You…You’ve gotta keep making me feel good, you promised…” 

With a force of will, Tsumugi pulls back, his face full of regret. “I’d forgotten how much I liked that,” he whispers, and eases Natsume’s trousers down the rest of the way, turning him, bending him over the desk. “Did you like that spell I did last time? Or I have sage oil for reading, it feels better but the smell lasts for days...”

Natsume’s face flushes hot, and he slumps forward over the desk, his legs trembling. “I…it smells like you, so that’s fine,” he whispers, burying his face down into his arms. Even as overstimulated as he is, his cock throbs, and he moans, dissolving a little as he squirms against the desk. “Take care of me, you’re really h-hard after that, aren’t you?” 

Tsumugi nods eagerly, shoving his own trousers down, letting Natsume see just how hard he is, straining in the air. “I’ll die if I’m not in you soon,” he breathes, and grabs for his sage oil, tipping it over his hand, then starting to work it into Natsume’s body, two fingers at a time. “Open up for me, sweetheart, you’re still so _tight_...”

Natsume’s mouth falls open, and he flops forward over the desk limply, his toes curling against the ground. Tsumugi’s fingers are long and _accurate_ , sliding in deep and then pressing in all the right places, leaving him to whimper and writhe, his chest heaving. “B-but I want it, I _want it_ ,” he huffs, tilting his head back to gulp in long draughts of air, his ponytail dripping down his back, now mussed and sweaty. “You’re so big, I need it…p-please…” 

“Don’t worry--don’t worry, I’m giving it to you, you can--ah, gods, you can have whatever you want, just give me a moment--”

Tsumugi’s next kiss is clumsy, hitting at the top of Natsume’s ear, his hand striking all the places he thinks will feel good, spreading and stretching that sweet hole. “Sorry, I--you’re so little, I’ve never, with someone so, so _perfect_ \--”

The noises that escape Natsume’s throat is frantic, a breathless little mewl when his back arches sharply underneath the _perfect_ press of those fingers curling inside of him. He stretches up onto his tip-toes, the muscles in his legs tense and trembling, his body squeezing tight around Tsumugi’s fingers when they try to pull out. “Y…you’ve gotta put it in,” he whispers, mindlessly pawing a hand own his own chest, thoughtlessly rubbing his fingers over a nipple through the fabric of his shirt and groaning when that just makes his cock twitch harder. “Please…please…” 

“You look so cute when you play with yourself,” Tsumugi whispers, hoping that sounds as encouraging as he means it. “I’d love to watch you tease yourself for hours, honestly...I’d love to tease you for hours, I...ah, I can’t stand it, I’m putting it in, all right?”

With that he moves, only barely managing to line up correctly before he ruts forward, the thick head of his cock breaching that small hole. It feels just as tight as the first time, but at least he’s less convinced that he’ll tear Natsume apart this time. “How’s that? Too much? Ah, I’m sorry, I don’t think I can stop even if it is...”

Natsume melts. He whimpers low in his throat, melting into the desk, scrabbling vaguely for purchase when Tsumugi’s cock pushes inside, spreading him apart, stealing his breath. He pants and gasps, his eyes squeezing shut, legs trembling as they try to spread just a bit more, as if that makes it any easier for Tsumugi to squeeze his thick cock inside. “’s…it’s good…ahh..g-gods, I c-can’t…” _Breathe, think, move, anything._

“You’re doing so well, you’re so good, I--”

Wait, no. That isn’t what Natsume likes, is it? Tsumugi tries to think about anything, about what he needs to be able to give Natsume what he needs, as he presses deep into the sweetest heat he’s ever been privileged enough to touch. 

He lurches forward, and sucks on Natsume’s earlobe, fumbling for words. “You’re going to take it all, because you’re going to be so good for me, aren’t you? I’m just--taking what I want.”

Natsume swallows loudly, clinging to the desk, his fingers bunching and crumpling whatever papers they end up grabbing when Tsumugi presses against him, pushes him down into the hard wood, and whispers those words against his ear. Inside, Tsumugi’s cock throbs, too big, too thick, filling him up in all the right places until it’s _uncomfortably_ too much. “H-hurts,” he whispers, his eyes rolling back when Tsumugi shoves deeper. “Nnghh..i..is…is that all of it? I…I wanna be good, y-you can have me as much as you want…” 

Tsumugi’s whole body shudders, and all of a sudden the act stops being an act. He slams in deep, teeth scoring across the shell of Natsume’s ear. “You’re so cute, and you’re all mine, aren’t you?” he groans, lurching forward until his hand grabs the edge of the desk, helping to brace his weight. That gives him the leverage he needs to slide in deeper, harder, other arm wrapped around Natsume’s waist as he whispers, “Last time, I couldn’t stop thinking about you after--every time I close my eyes I see you begging for this--it’s good, isn’t it? Tell me how much you love it inside you.”

Natsume whines, yelping loudly when Tsumugi shoves into him, his entire body seizing up into tight, trembling shivers. Tsumugi grabbing him like that, Tsumugi being this rough, Tsumugi’s voice getting all low and rumbly and rough in his ear…Natsume groans, dissolving, his nails fisting into his palms, his chest heaving as he squirms, the breath squeezing from his lungs when he does. He can feel how full he is, feel the cramping ache that makes even his toes tingle and hurt. “I…it’s _so_ …” he tries, his cheeks flushed red, sweat dripping down his back and sticking them even more firmly together. “I…it feels…it feels like y-you’re breaking me in haaalf…” The words come out as a weak, breathy moan, and Natsume’s cock twitches, trapped against the desk. “I w-wish…you’d just…stay in me all the time…” 

Tsumugi laughs, low in his chest. There’s a rumble that goes through his body, deep and hungry, and he drags Natsume back onto him, holding him still while he grinds in over and over. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Such a naughty child...you’re always so cruel, beating me and teasing me, but it’s just because you want me to bend you over, hmm? You want _this_ \--”

He punctuates the sentence with a vicious thrust, hard enough that his balls slap up against Natsume’s ass. “You want it--so bad you--can’t express yourself any--other--way--”

Natsume nods frantically—as much as he can, at any rate, when he can barely think beyond how he’s _sure_ he can taste Tsumugi all the way up into his throat. “I-if you’d just _fuck me_ all the time, that’d be better,” he whimpers, his voice breaking on a high, rasping mewl. He can _feel_ Tsumugi’s cock rubbing at all the right places inside of him, slowly, mercilessly milking him, and a trickle of drool escapes from the corner of his mouth as he pants into the desk. It’s no longer cool to the touch, and that makes him groan in protest, his cheek rubbing against the polished finish, now fogged up with his breath and sweat. “E…even if I’m dressed like a boy…you should just…grab me and pull me into your lap, l-like I’m your little pet…” 

The words go right to Tsumugi’s cock, and he groans, slamming into Natsume so hard that he bends over the desk at a right angle, toes lifting off the floor. He rocks in deeper every time, one hand reaching around to toy with one of Natsume’s nipples, as hard as he dares. “That’s a good boy...I’ll just keep taking you like this until you’re sweet, hmm? Then you--you really must be like a kitty in heat, you’re so much nicer when you’re nice and full...”

There’s no helping how fast he comes with those words. It’s _embarrassing_ , and Natsume sobs, every pull and pinch on his nipples going straight to his throbbing, pulsing cock, every achingly deep thrust making his cock spill harder and longer. He shouldn’t come like _this_ after already spilling once in Tsumugi’s mouth, but with his cock rubbing at just the right angle, there’s no helping it, and Natsume feels it splattering hot and sticky underneath himself, onto the desk and dripping to the floor. “T…too much…” he moans, sounding delirious, uncaring, unhearing. “Tsumugiiiii…”

“I think,” Tsumugi says softly, grabbing Natsume by the hips and pulling him back _hard_ , “that you should call me...hmm. My _lord_. Or maybe just husband--what is it that turns you on more, my sweet? Spread your legs wider, I want to see how wrecked you are while I’m in you.”

Natsume exhales a high, breathy sound, _trying_ to do as he’s told, but his legs don’t particularly seem to want to work. “I…I’m trying,” he whispers, any amount of squirming around just making Tsumugi feel even bigger in him, which makes him mewl and pant. “M…my lord—it’s—it’s so much, I c-can’t…” 

“You can, though...you were made for this, weren’t you? Ah--no, wait, it doesn’t matter, you just--you’re here for _my_ pleasure.”

Remembering the words Natsume likes gets harder and harder when he gets close, and Tsumugi reaches down, grabbing Natsume’s thigh and yanking it up, somehow managing to slide in even deeper with a groan, pace picking up until he’s slapping in faster than the rhythm of his heart. “That’s--that’s such a good boy, that’s--what I paid for, right?”

Natsume swallows, and swears he feels Tsumugi in his throat. It’s just _too much_ —he can’t help but squeeze down around Tsumugi when he slides in deeper, somehow, and his eyes roll into the back of his head with a rasping, broken whimper. He thinks he nods, but mostly, he tries to keep his legs apart, tries to be good and pliant and _made_ for Tsumugi to fuck. “Y-yes—my lord—“ His voice breaks into a squeak again, and he just buries it down into the desk.

That little squeak does him in, and Tsumugi cries out, lurching forward as he rocks in so hard he sees stars as he spills. He can’t help himself, but splays his hand out on Natsume’s stomach, pressing down hard as he leans towards Natsume’s ear. “That feels good, hmm? You need to be full, right? Not--hungry anymore, hmm?”

Natsume groans and writhes, kicking his feet helplessly in protest. As small as he is, as _large_ as Tsumugi is, the pressure low on his stomach makes him gulp and pant, feeling the way he clenches down harder around Tsumugi’s cock without explicitly telling his body to do just that. “I…it’s so _much_ ,” he whimpers, panting hotly into the desk. Not a drop wants to escape with how tight he still is around Tsumugi’s cock, and that’s both nice and quickly becoming uncomfortable, when Tsumugi presses on him like that. “That’s _mean_ …hurts, p-please, be nice to me, I can’t…” 

“I wish I had...mm, have you ever heard of...” 

Now that it comes to actually voicing it, Tsumugi blushes, and brushes Natsume’s hair behind his ear. “There’s a thing, a little contraption called a plug, have you heard of it?”

Natsume’s head shakes. “No,” he whispers, weakly turning his head towards Tsumugi’s touch. “I…I haven’t.” 

Tsumugi strokes him, hands gentle on his hair, on his waist, on his arms. “There’s a toy that you can, ah, wear? That keeps it all...inside. As long as you want. It’s been quite a while since I saw one, heh...”

“Everyone’s right,” Natsume dazedly murmurs, shutting his eyes. “You’re _really_ a pervert…” 

“Ehh? They really are saying something like that?” Worried, Tsumugi sits back in his chair, pulling Natsume into his lap. “I don’t mean to say anything that would make you uncomfortable...I just thought you might like the idea...”

Natsume flails for balance for a moment before he just surrenders to Tsumugi’s pulling, even if it means settling down onto his cock with a wince. “N..no, I…I like the idea, I’m…they…just like to tease you, for liking me so much, even when I wear boy’s clothes…” He flops backwards, squirming. “I don’t know how long I can stay like this,” he admits hoarsely. “I’m still sore from before.” 

Gently, Tsumugi lifts Natsume off of his softening cock, then turns him sideways to sit across his thighs, holding him close. “I hope you don’t hate me for saying this,” he says suddenly. “But I love you. I’m, I’m in love with you. And I have been for too long.”

Natsume says nothing for a moment, then weakly, half-heartedly slaps at Tsumugi’s chest. “I’m mad at you,” he mumbles, wincing as he tries to adjust himself on Tsumugi’s lap, and primly keep his legs closed, though it doesn’t seem to stop himself from dripping, bleck. “The least you could have done is been more obvious about it.” 

“Ah, when you’re a thirty-something year old runaway refugee, in love with a teenage boy more powerful and beautiful than you could ever dream of...” Tsumugi shrugs. “It would have been bad to let you know. I also thought you hated me.”

“Wrong.” Natsume slowly shifts, turning to bury his face into Tsumugi’s neck, breathing in deep. “You just make me mad, sometimes,” he murmurs. “I had the biggest crush on you, when we first met…and then you were so…not what I expected, that I got frustrated. I’m still frustrated.” His face heats up again. “But that doesn’t mean I…I don’t…mm.” 

“You were barely ten,” Tsumugi protests, guilt twisting in him. “I mean, you were still beautiful, but you were just a child, I would never have done these things with you then.”

“Shut up.” Natsume huddles up against his chest. “I don’t care about that. I-it’s not like I don’t…have that same crush on you now,” he mumbles. “You’re just even more confusing now, somehow.”

“Sorry,” Tsumugi says, almost automatically. “Just...you don’t have to say anything, if you don’t feel it. This is...ah, saying it’s enough for me is such an understatement. I never thought I could be like this with you once, much less twice. I’m very grateful.”

“…If you’re in love with me,” Natsume crossly says, “you should act more possessive, more proprietary. Then it’ll feel like we’re really together, and it’s not just an act you’re humoring me with.” 

“Eh? Me, humoring you?” 

Tsumugi swallows hard, folding his hands on Natsume’s lap. “I don’t like possessive people,” he admits. “I think if someone wants to leave you they should be able to. I’ve been owned before. I’d never do that to you.”

“I’m not saying I want you to _own_ me. I just want…you know, like how lovers are.” Natsume fidgets, looking aside. “Like how Lord Rei and Shu are. Or…or like how Captain Arashi and Mika are. I don’t own you, either, but that doesn’t mean I want you thinking of anyone else, or kissing anyone else, or…all of this.” 

“But...” Tsumugi spreads his hands, helpless. “I’d give you the stars if I could, Natsume, but...” _I can’t imagine ever being enough for you._

No, that will just force Natsume to leave him immediately. He has to at least try. “Wait, is that true? You don’t want me thinking of anyone else? Ah...I...in my perfect world...no, I can do this.”

He takes a deep breath. “You...I want you to be mine. To really be mine--to only think about me all the time, to dream about me when you’re asleep and want to be near me when you’re awake...”

Natsume lifts his head, staring back at him through mussed, sweaty hair, and very bluntly says, because nothing else ever seems to get across to Tsumugi, “But that’s how I feel. _You’re_ the one that never acts interested, _you’re_ the one that still seems stuck on stuff that happened a long time ago. You’re frustrating, pay more attention to me.” 

Tsumugi gives up, fluttering his hands in the air. “You’re right. I’ll try to be more, ah, husband-like, in the future. I just want to support you, I want you to be happy.”

Natsume sticks his tongue out at him. “Like it’s hard? Kiss me more, you _idiot._ And if you’re really a pervert, prove it.” 

“W-what? I don’t--I thought you didn’t want me to be a pervert, I’ve been trying to be good!”

“No. I like knowing what you want to do to me. And so far, I like it when you do it.”

Tsumugi presses a kiss to the top of Natsume’s head, unable to stop himself from breathing in deeply. “I like it when you smell like me,” he says softly. “That’s the tamest of the things I can admit.”

Natsume shivers, and buries himself firmly into Tsumugi’s chest, arms sliding up around his neck. “I like it, too,” he quietly says. “And that’s a good starting place for you to stop being so tame.” 

“Eh? You want me to start being more, ah...perverted...right now? I thought you could barely move.” Despite his protests, Tsumugi’s cock gives a hard twitch against Natsume’s thigh.

“N-no, not right now, just in general!” Natsume protests, giving Tsumugi’s hair a swift yank. “I’m already mad at you, I have to go and travel, and I’m so _sore_ , this is all your fault.” In spite of his words, he doesn’t _exactly_ sound all that upset.

“Next time, I’ll be more gentle,” Tsumugi promises, tucking a strand of hair behind Natsume’s ear. “And I’ll leave you love bites instead, so you can show those off instead of your limp.”

Natsume nods, pleased, as he snuggles against Tsumugi contently. “Perfect. Then everyone will know I have a possessive lover, I like that.” His eyes lid, his fingers slowly curling through the ends of Tsumugi’s hair. “I…am going to miss you,” he mumbles, almost too-quietly for Tsumugi to hear. “Don’t do stupid things while I’m gone.” 

Tsumugi’s cheeks flush, and he squeezes Natsume tight to his chest. “I’ll try not to. Please keep yourself safe. I’m glad you’re going to have Shu and Arashi close by, they’re both very competent.”

“I’m not good at acting like a boy.” Natsume huffs, and squeezes himself into an even smaller ball within Tsumugi’s arms. “I don’t really want to go. But I will, because I’m _not_ going to be useless.”

“Ah, if it helps? I think ttat many men will be, um, too impressed by your cloak to notice your mannerisms. And...you make a _very_ nice boy.”

Natsume blushes, and smacks him again. “Pervert,” he says, though it sounds pleased, more than anything else. He _supposes_ if Tsumugi approves, that’s a decent starting line.


	38. Chapter 38

Ritsu’s complaining is at an all-time high. 

Mao can tolerate this. He’s always been able to tolerate this. In this case, he supposes he deserves it. The _plan_ after escaping High Harbor was going directly to the Shadowlands—and Mao had agreed too readily, being as tired as he was. 

Unfortunately, his conscience refused to leave him alone.

“We have to go back,” he had said a few days ago, and Ritsu would’ve been right to kill him right then and there, Mao thinks. But… “I can’t not warn Keito.” _He practically raised me, he can’t be caught in the crossfire._

So, back towards the capital they go, and along the way, they seem to acquire…company. Mao has felt these kinds of trackers before. He’s seen them, a pair of twins, odd and unnerving in their similarity to one another, but he knows nothing about them, or why they occasionally track him, disappearing the second he tries to speak to them. 

“You know,” Mao wearily deadpans. “I thought, for some reason, that this would stop happening when I stopped being a spy. Spies being spied on, it seemed ironic enough for it to make sense so I could ignore it, but here we are.” His head hurts, his chest hurts, the scar he acquired from the Academy’s poison still vaguely aching from time to time. He doesn’t need strange little spies following him around right now, when he’s trying to do something _right._

“Maybe they’re a sign from the gods,” Ritsu suggests. He’s draped over his horse, face pressed to the big gelding’s mane as he dozes off and on. “They’re probably trying to send you a psychic message that you’re wasting your time to warn a piece of shit coward traitor that he’s going to get what’s coming to him.”

Mao exhales a long, drawn-out sigh. “We’ve been over this, Ritsu. He’s not a bad person, and he doesn’t deserve to be caught up in this when your brother decides to blow up the entire Academy.” 

“He tortured you? So, yeah, he totally does deserve it.”

“He didn’t have a choice. And he felt terrible about it, it was obvious.” 

“Everyone has a choice. I choose not to torture you every day, it’s pretty easy when you’re not a terrible person.”

Mao’s lips purse. “If you’re not going to be able to be nice to him, I’m going to ask you to go and do something else when I meet up with him. Like, I don’t know, make those two _stop tracking us_ ,” he calls irritably over his shoulder. There’s a rustle from somewhere within the brush, but nothing more.

Ritsu scowls, and lashes out with a tendril of dark power, snagging a fluffy tail and yanking it into the road behind them. “They’re Shadowcreatures,” he explains, blinking slowly back at the little creature. “Hi. Don’t run or I’ll catch you. Tell me what you are or I’ll catch your friend, too.”

The creature yelps and snarls, baring sharp canine teeth. His orange-furred tail lashes, and the large, fluffy ears on his head swivel, pinning backwards against equally orange hair that flops messily around his face. “You can’t catch him,” he stubbornly says. “He’s faster.” 

“They’re Shadowcreatures? Demons, like you?” Mao asks, incredulous, turning his horse around to stare at the little thing. He _looks_ like a little boy, save for the ears and tail, and he’s clad in the clothing of a traveling noble, so whoever his patron is, they obviously have money. “I think the other one must be his brother. I’ve seen them before and they’re identical.” 

“Wow, Maao, just because we’re from the same country doesn’t mean we’re the same...kinda racist...”

Ritsu slides off his horse, walking slowly to the captive boy, staring down at him with his arms folded. “Tell me who you work for, slow one. Are you just watchers, or are you also here to hurt my mate? I’ll talk in Shadowtongue if you prefer...”

“I’m not racist, you’re just being ridiculous,” Mao sighs, warily nudging his horse forward, uninterested in being too far away from Ritsu if something happens. 

The boy hisses at him again, warily scooting backwards on the ground with his long, sharp claws leaving marks on the dirt. “I don’t have to tell you anything! I’m just here to watch, so let me go!” 

“They _have_ watched me for years and nothing has come of it,” Mao calls over, starting to feel bad when the little demon starts shaking. “Don’t scare him to death, Ritchan.” 

Ritsu rolls his eyes. “I find it hard to believe that Keito was teaching you to take over his job when your heart is so cute and soft,” he says with a sigh. He looms over the boy for another moment, then shrugs. “You don’t have to tell me anything, I guess. But if I find out you’re working for someone I don’t like...then I’m gonna be way angrier than if you just told me now.”

“Keito’s not a bad person, either, he’s just…” Mao exhales, waving a hand. “C’mon, leave him be. I want to get back to the capital already.”

“You can’t go back,” the boy blurts out suddenly, looking worriedly between Ritsu and Mao. “You were supposed to go to the Shadowlands, where it’s safe.” 

“I knew it,” Ritsu says, eyes glinting suddenly. He switches to Shadowtongue, the words coming out in a hiss that sounds friendly to anyone that knows the language. “My brother, or my parents? It’s my brother, isn’t it?”

The boy stares up at him, wide-eyed and nervous. “Y…your brother,” he whispers, switching to Shadowtongue as well. “But you’re not supposed to know—neither of you are. When you were going to the Shadowlands, that was good, but now you’re not and you’re going somewhere that’s _really_ not safe, and your brother’s gonna be upset…” 

“I knew it, I _knew_ it,” Ritsu mutters, eyes alight. “Look. My mate here thinks I agreed to go to the Academy to warn his stupid old mentor, but I’m going because I know my brother is planning something. I’m going to be there to help him. Let him know.”

The boy frowns worriedly, shaking his head. “I’m not going to tell him that,” he says. “If I do, he’s going to figure out a way to send you two away.”

“Can you please speak the common tongue?” Mao wearily says. “I don’t recall agreeing to travel with a snake.”

“Then don’t tell him. I’m really sick of him moving the world to protect me when I could be _helping_.” Ritsu darts a look back at Mao, then adds in Shadowtongue, “Does my mate know who you work for? Sorry, Maao,” he says in Mao’s language, not looking apologetic at all. “He’s a feisty fox. Oh, his brother’s about to hit you from behind.”

“What?!” Mao’s heels dig into his horse, bringing him to bolt forward. “Holy shit, why didn’t you warn me before?” 

The first boy hisses, then jumps away, leaping back towards his brother and latching onto his tail. “We don’t have to tell you _anything_ ,” he says, sticking out his tongue. “But if you go to the capital, you’re making a biiiig mistake.” 

The second boy lurches forward, snapping his teeth against Ritsu’s magic bond to his brother, snapping it in a flash of smoke. His eyes glint, and he moves in front of his brother protectively. “We’re here to keep you safe,” he says, guarded, eyes flicking between both of them. “That includes keeping you both away from the Capital.”

“This is your fault,” Ritsu complains to Mao. “You’re the one who wanted to go back, I wanted to go drink Shadewine in the homeland.”

“Just because I wanted to do the right thing, you’re going to blame this all on me?” Mao protests. “How was I supposed to know we’d pick up a pair of trackers? Go on, shoo,” he huffs, waving a hand at the twins. “We don’t have time to play with you.” 

“You’re not gonna like it if he hears about this,” the older brother warns, backing up until both of them hit the treeline. “It’s safer to stay in the Shadowlands. This is a warning!”

“Yeah, except you only gave me that warning because I caught you,” Ritsu mutters. “Get out of here.”

They disappear, and he swings back onto his horse, grimacing. “All right. You were right. Let’s go South, I want to mess stuff up for my stupid brother.”

“Wait, what about your brother?” Mao presses, pulling his horse around to come up beside Ritsu. “What exactly did those trackers say? You know, talking in Shadowtongue means you have to explain things _twice_ , and that’s extra work for you.” 

“Yeah, I just didn’t want you to panic if they were from my parents and sent to kill you,” Ritsu says with a shrug. “I’d have killed them, then, and fed you a lie. But they just work for my brother, which is more boring, and it means that I’m right. Something big _is_ going to happen in the Capital.”

“It means _you’re_ right? More like it means I’m right for wanting to head back there and warn the people I care about,” Mao growls, spurring his horse forward immediately. “Of course they work for your brother, of _course_ they do. They’ve followed me around off and on for years, especially when I was around you.” 

“I just don’t get why you still care about that guy,” Ritsu grumbles. He follows Mao forward, glaring back at the trees. “We could be going back to do something important, not saving some asshole from his own problems.”

“Because,” Mao patiently says, “he more or less raised me. Your brother dropped me off at the Academy without a lot of explanation, you know. It’s lucky I was a fast learner—and that your brother happened to be tumbling one of the men closest to the Emperor at the time. Otherwise, I probably would’ve gotten fed to the Emperor’s pet lion or something, who knows.” 

Ritsu sulks, but steers his horse closer to Mao, leaning forward against his neck again. “Okay. Tell me about him, then. Tell me about the guy that raised you. Make me care.”

“Don’t ride your horse like that, what if something makes him bolt and you get hurt?” Mao scolds, but he sighs all the same, glancing up through the lines of trees. “Keito is…a very fair-minded person,” he settles upon. “That’s why I can’t fault him for arresting me and torturing me. He always tries to do what’s right—that’s why he took care of me in the first place. He loves children, and he’s always especially kind to them—well, at least when he’s sure no one’s going to tease him about it. He’s known the Emperor for a long time now, and I know he’s just trying to see the best in him. That’s why I can’t let him sit there and get caught up in this further.” He rolls his eyes. “I don’t think he ever even realized I knew he and Rei were involved. He’s oblivious to the strangest things.” 

“Is there anyone in the whole realm that my beloved brother _hasn’t_ had between his legs?” Ritsu grouses. “No wonder he left the Shadowlands, they wouldn’t have stood for that kind of stuff up there. Ahhh, I can’t say I don’t get it...the Emperor is like, a bad person? Definitely. But he’s not unpleasant to spend time with.”

“Tell me that again when you don’t have to deliver his mail,” Mao says with a roll of his eyes. “And yes, I can think of a great number of people your brother hasn’t bedded, thank the gods. For the reputation he has, he’s surprisingly particular. I was forever grateful when he decided he was done with that; less chance of me walking in on something awkward when he decided to summon me on a whim.” 

“Have you had him?” Ritsu asks bluntly.

“No! Gods, no, why would you even ask that?” Mao says with a grimace. “He’s not to my taste at _all_ —I’ve only ever laid with women, you know. Even the Emperor flirted with me once and I have never come up with fifteen additions to my schedule for the day so fast.” 

“Heh, you turned down the Emperor?” Ritsu laughs, reaching out to squeeze Mao’s hand. “Your virginity is really precious to you, huh? I can’t wait to take it.”

“I’m not a virgin! I’ve had women,” Mao insists, though his cheeks flush all the same. “But yes, I turned down the Emperor. He’s strange, and overbearing, and honestly far too tall, I’m not interested.” 

“Go back to the fun part of the conversation,” Ritsu insists. “I’m gonna put it in you when you’re ready. You’re gonna like it. Your virginity is totally mine. I’m not tall like him. So it’s okay.”

“You know, it’s funny that you mentioned how your brother’s habits of climbing between everyone’s legs wouldn’t fly in the Shadowlands. Do you know how many times he reminded me not to touch you? Or how many times he deliberately had me followed when I was first assigned to keep an eye on you? I was thirteen, and he still seemed to think I was going to steal _your_ virginity, when in reality, you were busy climbing into—how many different beds?” 

“Yeah, that’s why I left the Shadowlands,” Ritsu says, with a slow, unrepentant smile. “Why do you think everyone thought I needed a watcher?”

“Because you’re the Demon King’s little brother. I honestly don’t know how anyone can’t tell with just a glance, you two look so alike sometimes that’s it’s honestly scary.” 

“But you said he’s not your type. But you’re mine. And we look the same. Explain.”

“It’s a personality thing. And I like the way you wear your hair. And you’re shorter. And you do have a rounder face, which I think is cute.”

“I have a better personality, too,” Ritsu points out. “At least, I have a way sleepier one. And more honest, I think a lot of people care about that, maybe.”

“Personality was the first thing I mentioned.” Mao’s smile is wry, but genuine as he leans over, ruffling Ritsu’s hair. “The honesty part means a lot to me. I’m pretty sick of being told half-truths, nothing at all, or outright lies to get me to do things I don’t really want to do.” 

“Yeah...he’s really manipulative,” Ritsu agrees. “He got good grades in that stuff back home. Ah...you’d probably hate the Shadowlands, I bet. It’s all...really tall, cold buildings. And people doing whatever their great-great-grandparents did for no reason, and never really talk to each other. My brother fit right in, he was everyone’s favorite, I was the weird one. But then he decided to get all rebellious and everything, so Mom asked him to leave, and I went with him. The funny thing is, since I was never asked to leave, I’m technically the favorite son right now, but it’s only on paper. Everyone still likes him best.”

“That’s bizarre,” Mao bluntly says, leaning back into his saddle with a creak of leather. “You’re right, I don’t think I’d be able to stand it at all. I don’t think a lot of humans would like that. Sometimes, remembering that you’re half-human is strange when you tell me things like this, you know? Because I can’t imagine what your father must’ve been like…I always just think of your mother being a succubus and that’s about as far as I get.” 

“I dunno what my father was like,” Ritsu admits. “We were fostered until we grew up, it’s the way...and by that time, he was dead, because human life spans kind of suck, and also probably because Mom ate him. Succubus, you know.”

“Please tell me you’re not succubus enough to eat me eventually.” 

“I mean, I’ve never tried,” Ritsu admits. “Hmm. I bet I’d be able to, but I’d never do that to you. You’re special. Plus, it’d probably kill me, if you died, so I’m gonna have to figure out how to fix you so you’re not mortal.”

“…That’s sort of frightening. On both counts. I would rather not be the reason that you die, but being immortal is…questionable.” 

“We’ll figure it out,” Ritsu assures him. “We’ve got some time left. How old were your parents when they died?”

“They aren’t dead. They disowned me when I went to work for the Academy—same thing, I guess.” 

“Ohhh, that’s good. So if you’re...twenty? Then they’ve got to be at least thirty, right?”

“…How have you fit in with human society for so long?” 

“By being cute. And lying. And being dry so no one can tell if I’m being sarcastic.”

“Thank the gods you’re cute, then,” Mao sighs, his head hanging forward. “Ahh, this is why your brother had me follow you around all the time, do you know how many times I had to subtly make sure humans were looking _elsewhere_ or couldn’t sense the little bits of magic that you just…randomly decide to do? I know it’s innate for you, but honestly…” 

“Yeah, sorry,” Ritsu says, pretty much unapologetic. “Would have been a lot easier if I’d known someone was looking out for me. Easier for me, so I wouldn’t have tried to hide at all, since you were cleaning up. It’s good for you to be busy.”

“It would’ve been easier, if I had been able to talk to you.”

Mao heaves a sigh, shrugging. “There’s something really annoying about having to basically shadow someone off and on for years, and not being allowed to even say a word to them,” he softly says. “Especially when you can’t stop thinking about them even after they’re gone.”

Ritsu smiles to himself, then nudges his horse even closer, trying to lay his head on Mao’s shoulder, then giving up with a growl. “Horses are bad. I don’t like riding like this, we should be on the same one so I can snuggle and bite you. I’m trying to be cute about our resonant bond.”

“It’s not practical for a horse to carry two people for so long,” Mao reminds him, reaching over to gently rub Ritsu’s head instead, because he can do that much. “But I understand. Ah, as much as a stupid, basic human can, heh. Having words to explain the way I felt for so long is helpful.” 

“Have you made any progress on seeing it for yourself?” Ritsu asks, trying not to sound pathetically eager while being pathetically eager. “I want you to.”

“When I’m touching you.” Mao’s hand lingers for a moment, his eyes lidding. “It shimmers, if I really look. It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen before, magically…but it’s gotten more and more clear. At least I’m a fast learner, huh?” 

“You’re really smart. That’s good. Like I said, you can’t choose who you make a bond with, so...” Ritsu reaches over, tousling his fingers through Mao’s hair. “But fortunately, I got the best one.”

Mao’s expression shifts to wryly fond, and he reaches up, grabbing at Ritsu’s hand. “Likewise,” he says, and even as his skin heats up, he quietly adds, “I bet I’ll really be able to see it when you finally decide to eat me alive.”

“Mmm...yeah...” Ritsu chews on his bottom lip, squeezing Mao’s hand. “I gotta get some advice from my brother first, on...some stuff.” _Like how to not eat you when we do it._

“Ritchan. You’ve had sex before. I know you have, I’ve helped you get to a bath the next morning on at least five occasions.” 

“Yeah, but it’s different with your resonant bonded.” Ritsu rolls one shoulder, un-tensing on purpose. “Every wizard knows that. And my brother, he’s a sex wizard, right? But I’m a true bloodbred. I could accidentally, uh, do some stuff.”

Mao’s eyebrows raise. “Some stuff,” he repeats, deadpan. “Ritchan, are you going to actually eat me?” 

“I mean, I’ve had drinks from you before...I’m just scared I won’t be able to stop?”

“I feel like the fact you want me alive and possibly immortal will keep that at bay, maybe? Like, there has to be a biological imperative somewhere for you to not kill your mate.” 

“Oh. Good point. Ah, I still really wanna ask my brother about it, he’s got a resonant bond with that wizard...but I’m not gonna wait six years, that’s bad. You might be dead by then. You’ll definitely be old, like fifty.”

“I’ll be in my thirties,” Mao dryly says. “I’d really rather not wait that long. Now that I’m not dying every single time I try to breathe, honestly, I have no issue doing it whenever the mood strikes—just so you know. Not right now,” he immediately warns, because Ritsu takes things _so_ literally. “Because we’re trying to ride horses and actually travel.”

“Yeah, I can be good,” Ritsu agrees. “But you should let me chew on your nipples when we stop for the night.”

Mao jerks his hand away from Ritsu’s, cheeks burning. “You know, just _saying_ things like that is really…”

“Naughty, yep. I’m naughty.” Ritsu winks. “I’ve climbed into bed with a hell of a lot of sweet-smelling ladies. Ooh! We should get one and share, as soon as we start sleeping together neither of us are gonna want a woman ever again, might as well do it now.”

“Is…is that how it works?” Mao asks, trying not to sound horrified, but sort of put off by the idea, admittedly. “I mean—obviously, if we’re in a relationship, I’m not going to be sleeping with anyone else, but…does it just…completely nullify all other attraction? What _causes_ that?” he asks, not expecting an answer, more mystified than anything else. 

“It’s a wizard thing. I dunno if you can understand, but...” Ritsu chews on his lips, brushing the hair back from his face. “The way you interact with the world is different. Mine is shadows, I can’t really explain it any more than that without you being in my mind. But for some people--like, for my brother, it’s music. So whenever he’s attracted to someone, they _sound_ right. But ever since he found his bonded, everyone else sounds wrong--see, we just don’t really interact with people the same way as normal people. Did...did no one ever explain all this stuff to you?”

“The Emperor doesn’t condone discussion, lessons, or even basic knowledge of resonant bonds,” Mao wryly says, shrugging. “So what I have heard is word of mouth, and very vague explanations. I know a lot about wizards, but things like this, and figuring out how the bonds themselves actually work…that’s a mystery even for a lot of wizards brought to the Academy over the past six years.” 

“Blech,” Ritsu says emphatically. “This is why the Emperor kinda sucks, you know. We should be able to talk about stuff. I mean, plus a bunch of other stuff, like not letting us get it on.”

“Yeah, that’s…I’ve never understood that one, especially the whole double-standard where the Emperor is absolutely screwing his bonded every other second out of the day.” 

“People in power are terrible? They think it’s their right to do the kind of stuff that they stop everyone else from doing. Everyone in power is like that. Even the ones I like.”

“Accepting that everyone in power is like that isn’t helping anything. In this case especially, because hurting people _so_ unnecessarily…” Mao sighs, shutting his eyes briefly. “I tried my best to be kind to every wizard that went through my care, but there’s only so much that can be done when I still had to enforce rules I didn’t believe in. I hope something can be done, I honestly do. It’s nice to think the prince taking over will do anything, but I do think only your brother has a chance at changing this mess around. It’s why I stuck with him for so long.”

“Mm. He should be king.” Ritsu blinks slowly, then slumps forward, resting against his horse’s neck again. “I’ll vote for him...after I wake up...”

“You can’t vote for kings,” Mao chides, shaking his head. “Stay awake for another couple of hours, Ritchan. Then you can pass out on me, where it’s safe.” 

“I _do_ wanna pass out on you,” Ritsu says with a frown. “I guess that’s an attractive idea. But...consider....I’m sleepy...”

“Then get on my horse with me until we stop for the night, because you’re going to fall off.” 

Ritsu slumps sideways until he stumbles to the ground, then hands the reins to Mao, scrambling up behind him. “Good,” he murmurs, and slides his hands up inside Mao’s shirt, tweaking his nipples immediately.

Mao twitches, and reaches up a hand to slap Ritsu’s away half-heartedly. “Why do you always go for those? I’m not a woman, you know.”

“But you make cute noises and your dick gets hard, so what’s girly about that? Nah, if you wanna talk about being a woman, talk about how you’re gonna whine when I get in you, heh heh...”

“I’m going to leave you here in the woods,” Mao mutters, pulling Ritsu’s horse closer to him as he quickens their pace. “Who says you’re going to be the one putting it in?” 

“Um, I say it?” Ritsu grins, and nuzzles into Mao’s neck, licking a stripe up the side. “Just let me do it once. If you hate it, you can put it in me until you die of old age next year.”

“When you lick me like that, it feels like you’re trying to tenderize me,” Mao groans, but he still finds himself trying not to shiver and failing as he reaches up to swat Ritsu away. “Fine, fine, whatever, just—go to sleep, you brat. I’ll wake you up when you need to act respectable in public.” 

Ritsu can’t help himself, and he takes a little nip, his fangs just barely nicking the skin of Mao’s neck. “You always take care of me,” he murmurs, and promptly falls asleep.


	39. Chapter 39

Traveling wide open roads has always sounded like a lot of fun to Leo. Traveling alone has always sounded even better--without a retinue, without guards, without wagons and caravans, it sounds like the closest thing to freedom he’s ever experienced. 

In practice, traveling alone makes him jumpy, nervous, and lonely. Every sound makes him absolutely certain that he’s about to be set upon by his father’s soldiers, that he’s been found out at last. 

_Just one more league._ It’s what he tells himself over and over, even when he’s drifting off against Tempo’s neck, causing the poor thing to veer to the side. After the third time, he finally slides off, walking alongside his horse to keep from falling asleep. That’s how he stumbles upon a small camp, two men huddled around a campfire, arms around each other. “Oh. Um, hello?” he calls, glad his cloak is hiding his hair from immediate view. 

Ritsu blinks up, arm around Mao’s waist. His other hand drops to his waist, and a dagger’s hilt. “There’s someone here. Deal with it, okay? I’m sleepy.”

Reflex makes Mao reach out magically first. Not a wizard, thankfully, and what little magical residue he can feel on he person makes him frown. “Just stay here,” he reassures Ritsu, sliding away to climb to his feet. “Hello,” he offers in return, gaze sliding from the man to his horse, which is clearly from expensive stock. “If you want to stop here for the night, I’ll need you to state your name and reason for traveling. In accordance with Academy rules, only approved guests can be near my charge.” It’s a good way to weed out just about anyone—nobles immediately announce themselves, commoners tend to be too nervous, and thieves with any amount of sense turn and leave, uninterested in dealing with someone with a wizard.

“Ah! I remember you!” Leo’s eyes go wide, and his self-preservation from his last few months of being on the run can’t begin to overwhelm a lifetime of training for the throne--and besides, he knows this guy. “You’re the intern from the Academy, aren’t you? Keito’s assistant?”

“I…I’m not an intern,” Mao manages, taken aback, but he takes a moment to further _look_ at the man’s face, and—shit. “Your Highness? What are you…are you traveling _alone?_ ” 

“Yes! They’ll never expect it, haha!” Leo throws back his hood, hoping audacity will keep him safe. “And by _they_ , I mean your masters. Well, technically, I’m not at war with the Academy. In fact, right now they’re on my side!”

“That’s nothing to be proud of,” Ritsu says dryly, resting his head on Mao’s shoulder.

Mao heaves a sigh and settles back down, shaking his head. This is one more thing he didn’t want to deal with, but here they are, for better or for worse. “I’m no longer working for the Academy, Your Highness, so perhaps announcing things like that is unwise,” he dryly says. “I regret to inform you—if you assume the Academy is on your side at any point, you’re mistaken.”

“Well, the Emperor, at any rate,” Leo clarifies. “He’s sworn to work with me on my most important issue. And if you’ve left the Academy, you’re _probably_ a good guy, in my book. Can I share your fire?”

“Your logic makes me sleepy.”

“The Emperor doesn’t know what the word ‘sworn’ means,” Mao wearily says, and waves a hand, gesturing Leo over. “By all means, Your Highness. Your endless optimism is endearing.” 

Leo flops down into a crosslegged sprawl, beaming at his newfound companions. “I do hope so, it’s my greatest renewable resource! But even the Emperor can’t betray a blood pact.”

“Wrong,” Ritsu says through a yawn. “But cute. I see why Izumi likes you.”

Mao grimaces, tossing over a skin of water. “We have wine, too, which you might want after this conversation. Blood pacts only bind those that are fully human…or, well, human to a certain degree,” he hedges. “Experiments have been conducted with those of diluted blood, one-sixteenth and more, and blood pacts have still been found effective.” 

The bottom drops out of Leo’s stomach. He looks from Mao to Ritsu for confirmation, and his face changes into a mask of dismay. Then he lets out a laugh, falling back on his hands, his whole body quaking with mirth. “Of course! Of course he was lying, of course he was, it would have been way too easy!”

“You don’t look like you killed a kid,” Ritsu says slyly. “How was he?”

Leo wipes a tear from his eye, chest heaving. “Oh, man. Yeah. I should really have expected this.”

“We have wine,” Mao repeats, shaking his head as he fishes it out. “I’m going to assume you’ve never had the pleasure of meeting the Demon King, Your Highness, and being briefed on what a snake the Emperor has a tendency to be. My apologies, he truly has a bad personality. Ah, my name is Mao, by the way.”

“A pleasure,” Leo assures him, with a little bow. “Thank you for the wine. And this was my second meeting with the Emperor--I didn’t expect him to be so...ah...youthful!”

“That’s a word for it. Hey, Mao, he thinks the Emperor is youthful. I bet we could get this guy to do _anything_.”

“Be nice,” Mao chides, shaking his head as he passes the wine to Leo and lean back, hands on his knees. He’s not interested in introducing Ritsu just yet—as genuine as the prince seems to be, he’s still in the Emperor’s bed (quite literally) and Mao isn’t interested in taking chances with that. “Forgive me, but you don’t seem to know very much about the Emperor. Why were you seeking him out in the first place?” 

“He’s looking for the Quorum,” Ritsu says suddenly, eyes widening as he figures it out. “The King Killers, right? Shit...that hasn’t happened in like, hundreds of years?”

Leo jerks his head in a nod. “I’m on my way to the Merchant’s guild now to talk to their leader. I already secured the Captain of the Kingsguard--ah, sort of, at any rate. I...I _thought_ I had the Emperor’s vote. But I still haven’t ruled that out!”

“If you do what he wants, you’ll have his vote,” Mao says. “Otherwise, look forward to him laughing in your face. Sorry, I don’t mean to be pessimistic, but he is _absolutely_ toying with you. He’s bored and you’re probably a good source of entertainment right now, while the Faerie recovers.” 

“You know,” Leo says conversationally, “that was kind of what I figured would be the case before I went to see him, so really, I’m in basically the same place as before.”

“But with a sorer arse,” Ritsu mutters, and Leo’s ears turn pink.

“Shush, don’t talk to a prince like that,” Mao mutters, pinching Ritsu’s ass in reprimand. “Your Highness, I highly recommend you rethink your plans. If you’re trying for the Quorum, the Emperor will probably pull out last minute, unless you can outbid the king in favors. I actually suggest not being anywhere near the capital for the next week or so, so there’s that.”

Leo shakes his head. “Time’s of the essence, I can’t do that kind of thing. My father’s closer to wiping out the entire Northern force, plus all the surrounding countryside _and_ peasants, with a magical weapon. And the Emperor doesn’t like that any more than I do, so for the moment, I think he’ll sway my way even without the blood pact.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Mao patiently says, but he does take the wine back for his own drinking purposes. “Stay away from the capital. The only reason we’re going back is to warn certain people to do the same.” 

“Thanks for the advice,” Leo says with a sigh, “but personal safety cannot be a public leader’s primary concern. If I’m to be king someday, I don’t deserve to be any less safe than the rest of my people, you know? So I’ll protect them. I’ll stop my father face to face if I have to--it’ll just be a lot easier with the Quorum.”

Ritsu shifts, extending a mental tendril towards the forest, where he still feels the presence of the little fox spirits. His shadow presence nudges one of them, as he stands. “I’m gonna go take a leak in the woods,” he announces, and wanders over towards the trees.

Mao watches Ritsu for a moment, then sighs, shaking his head as he downs another mouthful of wine. “Let me be blunt, Your Highness,” he quietly says. “The Demon King’s plans at this point couldn’t be any more obvious. He’ll have your father killed as soon as he’s finished with his overhaul of the Academy. We’re giving that another couple of days, which is why we’re hurrying back.” He leans forward, eyes lidded. “The only reason to keep up the work with the Quorum at this point is to look unaffiliated with the current king…but then you risk looking _too_ affiliated with the Emperor, and…I’m not sure you’ll be spared for that.” 

“If his plan is to kill the king of our country because of a personal vendetta,” Leo says softly, staring into the fire, “and replace it with nothing but chaos, or seize control for a warring political agenda, then I’ll have to be his enemy. I don’t want to. I like him as a person. And before you say anything, it has nothing to do with me wanting to preserve my family’s bloodline. I just want the country to be ruled by a person, or group of people, that has its people’s best interests at heart. Does he want to be king?”

“I don’t know,” Mao confesses softly. “All I know…is that while he’s not a _bad_ person, he’s…focused on one thing, and only one thing.” 

“If that thing is wanting a fairer, more inclusive country, he wants me in power, and he’s my friend,” Leo says frankly. “If that thing is wanting power at all costs, then he’s my enemy. I’ll need to talk to him about all this, of course, but...you seem to be his confidante, so if you have any insights for me, I’d like to hear it.”

“I’m not his confidante, just…someone that’s worked for him for a long while.” Mao hesitates, glancing back into the woods, making sure he can still feel the low thrum of Ritsu’s magic before he glances back to Leo. “He wants the former, I truly think he does—but I also think he’s less concerned with that happening first and foremost. I think he mostly wants the Emperor dead, or at the very least, completely and utterly stripped of power.” He grimaces. “There was an incident, years back, that brought all of this resentment to a head.” 

Leo’s eyes widen. He leans forward, reaching into his pack to pull out a packet of nuts, offering Mao a handful. “Food for story? I only really know what people have told me, about both of them.”

“If you don’t spend a lot of time around wizards, you would never hear about this,” Mao agrees wryly, and he takes the offered handful while passing over the wine skin. “Thank you. How much do you know about the Demon King in general? He used to be willingly a part of the Academy, did you know that much?”

Leo nods slowly. “I think...I think I knew that. I know he’s old? And that he came from the Shadowlands, and he had something to do with the Academy--I remember my father saying he was a dangerous Nightcloak, but he probably died about six years ago. I met him a few months ago, but I didn’t know who he was, and then when I found out, we didn’t talk much about _him_.”

Mao nods, popping a nut into his mouth. “Years and years ago—I don’t know how long ago, he changes the story every time depending on if he’s feeling old and sad about it—he helped form the Academy into what it is now…more or less. He and the Emperor had a lot of disagreements about things and how it should be run. This all ended with a power struggle, and the Demon King leaving, and distancing himself entirely…until about six years ago.” 

The fire crackles loudly. Mao shifts, leaning back. “Officially, there are exactly four Nightcloaks,” he says. “The Demon King found a fifth that he didn’t report. A prophet, that led him back to the Academy. He went there underneath the guise of guest teaching. That’s where he met His Excellency, the Nightcloak Shu, and they immediately formed a resonant bond.” 

“I heard a little something about that,” Leo says slowly, mind churning to keep up with all the new information. “And from the way they embraced when they finally got back together, I’m guessing their parting wasn’t exactly of choice?”

“No, and that would be…the incident.” Mao holds up three fingers. “Three things for you to know before I go into this. One, the Demon King is a sex wizard. That means he draws power explicitly from having sex. Previous to being bonded, he had run around as he pleased, having all the sex he wanted and being incredibly powerful because of it. Two, this can’t be monitored, and things that can’t be controlled really piss the Emperor off. Thus, the ‘no sex _ever_ ’ rule for wizards these days, just in case they end up being like the Demon King. And finally, three…sex with their bonded for a sex wizard…is like adding oil to a fire. Not only does it spread further and faster, but normal means can’t put it out. So of course, the Demon King would become far too powerful for the Emperor to be comfortable with.”

Mao sighs. “The Demon King, of course, _had_ to climb into Shu’s bed. I don’t know what it even entailed—certainly nothing in its entirety, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now—but it was interrupted, whatever it was. Rei fled, because he had no choice, and Shu was apprehended and submitted for reeducation, because this was an obvious and egregious disregard of the rules. Prior to this, the idea of a Nightcloak being reeducated…it was simply unheard of, but the Emperor made an example of him.” Mao swallows, shaking his head. “Openly, and deliberately. Reeducation can be many things, depending on the offense; in this case, I can’t even imagine how humiliating it must have been. His Excellency refused to back down, which just made the Emperor punish him even more, and…and he’s never been he same since.” 

Leo stares into the fire, as if he can see the images of whatever Mao describes in its depths. “What is reeducation? I’ve heard it mentioned in passing once or twice, but no one’s ever told me what it’s like. I assumed it was just torture, but...you make it sound like more.”

“It depends on the offense committed.” Mao’s mouth twists. “There are…almost innumerable rules that the Emperor has implemented as a part of the Academy’s training. Wizards typically have to train and learn for about a decade to pass all of the tests set before them—most of them aren’t even necessarily magical. One of the most common reeducation tasks…is based on sexual arousal, which, of course, is explicitly banned. To ‘train’ it out of wizards, they’re tested all the time—a pretty maid showing up at their door and flirting, cute boys left in their bed…you name it. It’s designed to have them fail, because the Emperor is a sadist.” 

It’s said casually, but Mao bites down far too hard into a nut after that. “In His Excellency’s case…I don’t know the full extent of it, but I do know at one point, the Emperor repeatedly bombarded his mind with images of the Demon King, wanting to see if he could, I don’t know, put a stop to how turned on he was whenever Rei was around. Ridiculous, humiliating. I wish I could say that was the worst of it.” Mao swallows, glancing aside. “Then he tried to break their bond. I’ve…seen him do that before, as casually as anything. The backlash from this attempt, though…the Emperor was bedridden, and His Excellency…he locked himself away for months. The only person that could get near him was Mika, his protégé.” 

Leo whistles low under his breath. “I’ve heard things about wizards and re-education, but...I mean, if it’s not just me, that sounds less like torture and more like...”

He wraps his arms around himself, scooting closer to the fire for its warmth. If Izumi were here, he’d know what to do. If Izumi were here, he’d know what to say, he’d know how to say a few words, refocus them, and set off again full of purpose. _I miss you_ , he thinks, as if Izumi could hear him. _I know who I am, but I keep forgetting who I want to be without you._

He wipes his hands down his face. “The Emperor really needs to be stopped, doesn’t he? I thought I could work with him, but...what would you do, with the Academy?”

Mao holds his hands up, shaking his head. “I’m the wrong person to ask. For years, I’ve been a transporter and inquisitor for the Academy. You’ve probably heard the slang ‘magic sniffer’—I’m as good at that as it comes, for a human, which means I’ve had to report some things that I’d never want to mention otherwise. I’m too sympathetic, and if it were up to me, I’d have every single wizard released on the spot, even the dangerous ones that the Emperor deems ‘impossible.’ Did you know he decided Mika was like that? Even when all it took to have him act like a normal human being was someone being kind to him? I watched that as it unfolded, and that’s just one case out of many.”

Leo grimaces. “There’s no oversight,” he admits. “There was a contract put into place like thirty years ago, which states that all wizards are essentially citizens of the Academy, separate from my father’s realm. I have...kind of a plan, to force the Emperor’s hand, but I’m not entirely sure it’ll work. But even if it does...he doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would take it lying down. But--you know the Demon King closely? What do you think he cares about more, the wizards, or the others? Do you think...maybe if he and I both succeed at toppling our predecessors, he’d want to rule the Academy, and me the throne?”

“Wizards, any day of the week,” Mao answers without batting an eye. “I think, at one point, he wanted to take over the Academy—but that’s going to be a hard sell for you now. The Emperor has turned much of the Academy against him, and his closest associates keep selling the Demon King as the problem. Because of that, I honestly think he just wants to grab up his lover and disappear…but not before he destroys every single bit of the Emperor’s work.” 

Leo clenches his fists, his stomach in knots. “I just...want to build something better than we have now,” he whispers. “I want to be around people who want to make things better, I want--I want to give everyone a chance. That’s what this country is _supposed_ to _be_ , it’s my great-grandfather’s vision.”

“Then you need to stay away from the Emperor, and start asking the Demon King to step in,” Mao bluntly says, taking a long swig of wine. “Because when it comes to wizards, the Emperor has what he wants, and he’s not going to change. I don’t know what plan you had in mind, but…consider he’s already lied to you once, because he wanted some fun. That’s going to be a common reoccurrence, trust me.” 

“My plan isn’t conditional on his acceptance,” Leo says softly, but he can’t help but think his ‘plan’ is too small, too stupid, too obvious, and that the Emperor has already been several steps ahead of him at every step of the way. “Can you put me in contact with the Demon King? I’d like to talk to him about a way forward. When we spoke, all he kept telling me to do was wait.”

“He’s cut his line of contact with me, because the Academy had me imprisoned and interrogated.” Mao’s expression shifts wry. “Currently, he’s already within the Academy. I hate to repeat anything he says, but—I’d wait, until he’s done stepping on the Emperor’s face a bit. It’s inevitable in the next couple of days. If you want to make it move along faster, then make sure there’s a clear path for His Excellency to get to him.” 

“I am not sacrificing my country and my people for the sake of one man’s revenge!” 

The words come out louder than he’d intended, and Leo clenches his teeth, staring down at his hands. “I didn’t mean to shout. But...I’m sick of people telling me who to be afraid of, that I should watch my steps around so many people and tread lightly--I’m _going_ to do whatever I think is necessary, and if I die or get caught in the crossfire, then at least I died doing what I believed in.”

The twisting in his stomach stops. His chest settles. For once in the last few weeks, he thinks he understands, and knows his way forward. “The country can’t use a king that’s in debt to anyone, even if it’s someone else who’s trying to do good. It can’t use a king that compromises his ideals to become king. That’s how you wind up like my father, or like the Emperor.”

Mao spreads his hands, his expression impassive, not reacting to Leo’s shouting or impassioned speech. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do, Your Highness. All I’m doing is giving a vague suggestion or two. Follow your own ideas and plans all you like, but I do still _highly suggest_ that you stay away from the Academy and surrounding area for a couple of days. He’s waited six years for this. He’s not going to stop now that he’s almost finished.”

“I’ll try to stay out of his way,” Leo promises, standing and starting to gather his things. “And I hope he stays out of mine. Otherwise, we’ll have words. Thank you for the advice, I hope our paths only cross in the nicest of ways from here on out.”

“Stay for the night, at least,” Mao protests. “Traveling when you’re this exhausted is a recipe for disaster, especially when you’re traveling alone.”

“Nonsense, I’ve never been more awake. I’m full of inner conviction, that’ll keep me awake! Wahahaha!”

Leo climbs onto Tempo, turning her around back the way he came. “Thanks again. I hope your travels go smoothly. Farewell!”

With that, he turns and gallops down the road, the night air whipping by his cloak.

Ritsu strolls out of the woods, eyes glinting in the low light. “He’s right. No time to waste, we should go. I sent a message ahead.”

“I have a hard time believing that ball of idealism is in any kind of a positive relationship with the Sena heir,” Mao mutters, hauling himself to his feet with a groan. “Why the rush now? What changed?” 

Ritsu shrugs. “It’s nighttime, I’m feeling frisky. We can go or we can have sex, up to you. I let my brother’s pets know about that weapon thing, so at least he’ll have a heads up.”

“Don’t call them his pets, that implies some strange things about his other spies, too,” Mao mutters, flopping back down. “It’s nighttime, and for humans, that means being tired. I’m not getting back on my horse right now.”

Ritsu’s eyes glint again, and he drops down to his knees, pushing Mao’s hair back from his ear. “Then...you want me to have a little snack instead? Maybe from your thighs?”

Mao shivers, reflexively lifting a hand to bat Ritsu’s away. It’s not because he dislikes the touch or doesn’t want it, but instead because it feels oddly overstimulating. After focusing on it so long, trying _so hard_ to see that damned bond, maybe this is the end result. “You can…do whatever you want.”

A long shudder goes through Ritsu, and he pulls himself back, rubbing his hands down his pants to calm himself down. “I’ve gotta...be careful,” he murmurs, swallowing hard. “You’re...you’re really beautiful, and I just want...I just want to not eat you. I think I’m gonna keep my mouth to myself this time.”

It’s probably stupid at best to encourage this, but Mao can’t help it, not when the desperation is so clear on Ritsu’s face. “You’ve bitten me before, and you knew we were bonded then, didn’t you?” he quietly presses, tugging down his collar, unlacing it enough to give a view of his neck. “Ritchan. I trust you.” He cracks a smile. “Besides, if I’m going to die, it might as well be because you decided I was delicious.” 

Ritsu takes a deep breath, then shifts a few centimeters closer, swallows hard, and stops. Then he breathes in again, and carefully, gently leans down, pressing his lips to Mao’s neck. A tear drips down his face from the sheer effort it takes to restrain himself, and he gently lets his fangs extend, pricking into the skin of his neck. The second the first drop of blood hits his tongue, he groans, shuddering from his shoulders down to his toes, stronger than an orgasm.

Mao shivers, his eyes lidding as he slowly drags a hand back through Ritsu’s hair, gently curling his fingers at the base of his neck. “See?” he murmurs, feeling his own breath hitch in his throat. “It’s…it’s fine. Ah…that feels better than I remember…” 

“It’s good, right?” Ritsu asks, eyes alight as he draws back, licking his fangs. “You’re so good, so good to me. Do you want my mouth? I’d...do anything for you, honestly...”

His neck stings from Ritsu’s little bite, and Mao lifts a hand, thumbing over the bite mark. His thumb comes away streaked with blood and he licks it off curiosity. “What in the world does that taste like to you to make it seem so good,” he mutters, mystified, and his eyes flick upward to hold Ritsu’s gaze. “You can do whatever you want. We probably won’t get interrupted by any other traveling princes tonight, at least.” 

Ritsu can’t help himself at that display, and he lurches forward, sealing his mouth over Mao’s, licking hungrily to catch that drop that Mao had tasted. His eyes lid, and he leans close again, hands moving to slowly unlace Mao’s shirt. His fingers trace over the flat planes of Mao’s belly, resting on his hips. “You’re almost...too much for me to touch,” he whispers. “Like you’re going to disappear if I’m not careful.”

“I’m not going to disappear,” Mao says with a hitch of breath, feeling his skin already start to heat underneath Ritsu’s touch. His tongue is encouragement enough, when he’s kissed, but Ritsu’s hands on him—there’s that feeling of overstimulation again, maybe like everything is happening under the influence of very potent (and very illegal) drugs. His own hands reach out, dragging through Ritsu’s hair, tugging him back in by the silky-soft strands for another kiss. “But you’re definitely too much for me to touch,” he admits, eyes fluttering. “E-ever since I started trying to see our bond.” 

“It’s kinda scary, right?” Ritsu admits on a whisper, hands fisted in Mao’s unlaced shirt. “I’ve never felt anything like this either...it’s not like I’m an expert in resonant bonds, especially not my own. I didn’t know it would feel so...exciting. Scary.”

A thought suddenly occurs to Mao, somehow, through the muddled haze of arousal, and he sits back, sucking in a slow breath. “When we do it,” he carefully asks, “are you…going to be really strong afterwards, too? Like your brother? I know you aren’t a sex wizard, but…” 

“I’m not sure? I told you, I’ve never had a resonant bond before. Mm...but I know I get stronger on drinking your blood than anyone else’s, and our bond was weaker then, so...” Ritsu shrugs, looking mildly uncomfortable. “Probably. Ah...we probably shouldn’t do this tonight. It could attract some attention. Wow, praise me, I’m being _really_ responsible.”

“Screw it.” Mao grabs a handful of Ritsu’s shirt, dragging him closer. “We’re already being tracked by your brother to make sure we don’t die, probably. Anyone else that could bother us is probably scared off by that alone—and the rest of the Academy that could cause us trouble is either preoccupied, or can’t listen in because I silence everything.” His eyebrows raise. “Be responsible some other time, we have a nice fire going.” 

A slow smile spreads across Ritsu’s face, and he lifts Mao by the hips, settling him on his lap. “For once, you’re the one telling me to be reckless? Heh, that’s new...you must _really_ want me bad, huh?” 

His hands drift down, reaching back to cup and squeeze Mao’s ass as he brushes another kiss to his jawline, then his cheek, then finally his lips again.

“You..ah…you started this,” Mao mutters, but doesn’t argue. Touching other people…it’s _awkward_ for him, after so many years of having to be clinical, careful, distant. It’s always been easier to bestow a casual touch here or there with Ritsu, but this—this is very different, and he shifts with a nervous exhale, his hands curling against Ritsu’s shoulders. “But…yeah.” He licks at his lower lip when he tilts his head back from their kiss, shivering when Ritsu’s taste lingers there so strongly. “I don’t think I could let you stop right now.” 

“I don’t think I can now,” Ritsu breathes. He squeezes, feeling the tight muscle of Mao’s ass, his own breath quickening. “You can--you can have whatever you want, you know, I want you to be happy, I just want you to love me...”

He slips a hand around, cupping and squeezing gently through Mao’s trousers, watching his face intently for any signs of how he feels. “It’s nice, you can feed it to me--or if you don’t trust my mouth, you can suck mine, I don’t care--”

Mao bites his lip, stifling a groan as he automatically arches forward, his fingers gripping Ritsu’s shoulders tightly as he rubs into the palm of Ritsu’s hand. “You…you don’t have to worry about me loving you, you know,” he gasps, his head tipping forward to thunk against Ritsu’s shoulder. His cock throbs, entirely _too_ interested all of a sudden, and Mao shuts his eyes, sucking in a sharp breath to hopefully grasp at some control again. He doesn’t quite find it, especially when he buries his face into Ritsu’s neck, inhaling deeply. “I want _you_ to feel good…l-let me take care of you, whatever you want…” 

Ritsu curses, fumbling with his own laces to pull himself out, keeping his other hand on Mao’s cock as if he’ll die if he removes it. “I don’t...really know what to do,” he admits. “Any time I’ve ever had sex, I’ve just _done_ it, I’ve never had to work around a resonant bond or anything...”

“I’m unhelpful and have only ever slept with women, sorry,” Mao says with a breathless laugh, nuzzling into Ritsu’s neck, tentatively pressing a kiss there, then a long, lingering suck as his own, trembling fingers slide down. Touching Ritsu’s cock sends a jolt down his spine, making him shudder, and his thumb drags slowly over the tip, then down the length of it. “Gods, you’re pretty,” he mutters, sounding personally affronted by it. “Men aren’t supposed to be, it’s such a pain.”

“Do you...think I’m pretty down there, too?”

Ritsu looks down between them, pulling Mao’s cock free of his breeches, letting it rub against his own. A sticky drop of liquid slides down the side of his own cock, and he bites his lower lip, eyes flicking up to catch Mao’s gaze. “You think I’ve got a nice one? You haven’t seen a lot...but you should tell me it’s pretty anyway. Taste it.” He drags a fingertip across the head of his own cock, then brings it to Mao’s mouth.

_Obviously it’s pretty, all of you is pretty_ is on the tip of Mao’s tongue, but the tip of his tongue is far too preoccupied to bother with speaking. He swallows, his lips parting, head tipping forward when his tongue flicks out to drag over Ritsu’s finger. The visceral reaction he has to the taste startles him—it’s bitter, almost metallic, and the rush of warmth that spreads further south makes him shift, his knees spreading further apart on either side of Ritsu’s lap as Mao grabs at Ritsu’s wrist, dragging it forward to better suck that finger into his mouth. 

“It’s good with your bonded, isn’t it?”

Ritsu leans forward, setting his mouth to Mao’s neck again, sucking a sweet, slow gulp of blood that makes his cock twitch hard, warmth spreading through his entire body. “Or maybe,” he teases, voice low and sultry, “you’ve just really liked boys this whole time...and you’re totally repressed.”

Mao’s eyes flutter with a low, rumbling groan caught up in his throat, head lolling when Ritsu bites and drinks again. He releases that finger with a slow suck, panting as his cock twitches, dripping when he sinks deeper into Ritsu’s lap to better rub against him. “I…it’s not like I ever was against the idea,” he pants out, pawing mindlessly at Ritsu’s shirt, fumbling with the laces. “It just…never came up and I…grew up in the capital and…ah…g-gods, why does it feel so good when you bite me now…”

Ritsu pulls his mouth back, fangs glinting in the firelight, eyes dark and hungry. “It’s up now,” he points out, dragging Mao’s hand back down against his cock again. “Mm...I’ve decided that I’m glad it feels good to you...it just feels...extra intense to me. Mm, maybe if we rub them together? That’ll be good, right?”

“Maybe,” Mao murmurs, slinging an arm back around Ritsu’s shoulders, using that to keep him close when his fingers try to curl around them both, squeezing slowly and feeling his breath hitch. ‘Good’ doesn’t really cut it. Just touching Ritsu is already too much, and like this, it’s like his vision won’t stop blurring, and his own cock won’t stop aching, too-hard, too-fast. “You’re…so hard already,” he breathes, his eyes flicking upward briefly. “Are you sure you don’t want something else?” 

“If you keep offering,” Ritsu says with a groan, “I’m gonna flip you over and take you from behind. And I _really_ don’t know what that would do, so....let’s just take what we’re pretty sure won’t kill us or explode everything, and do the rest later? Ahh, I want to take your virginity on a bed, anyway....ahh, you feel so nice in my hand...”

“I’m not a virgin, for the last time,” Mao growls, though the protest is a half-hearted one, especially when he stuffs his face back into Ritsu’s neck, kissing and sucking on pale skin in an attempt to stop making so many incriminating noises. He scoots further into Ritsu’s lap, shivering at the hot, sticky slide of their cocks together. “If you’re not doing it right now,” he lowly murmurs, “then you should at least tell me…how you really want to have me.”

Ritsu shudders hard, feeling his cock drip and leak more, pulsing over both of them as he squeezes and strokes. He leans close to Mao’s ear, hands moving faster, rubbing over the heads of their cocks as he murmurs, “I’m going to...none of this pine needle shit, I’m going to lay you down on a really nice cushy bed, I’m going to spend...at least an hour kissing every part of you...I’m going to warm you up with my tongue and my fingers, until you’re begging me to bite you and slide right in...but I won’t, not until you feel empty without me inside you....”

He’s not a virgin, but the words make him blush like one. Mao bites down on a groan, his head thunking against Ritsu’s shoulder, breath hot as he pants and grinds forward, rubbing into Ritsu’s touch. His cock leaks freely, dripping over Ritsu’s fingers—embarrassing, he can’t remember _ever_ being this turned on, let alone by something like this with another man, but… 

“Fuck,” Mao whispers, his eyes fluttering he grabs at Ritsu’s back, clinging to him with every little rock of their hips. “You…ah…R-ritchan, just t-thinking about that tongue of yours…” 

“You like my tongue?” Ritsu lets it flick out, tracing around the shell of Mao’s ear, the tiny tip dipping into the hole. “You want it on your cock? Ah, it’s really, _really_ hard...maybe you want it somewhere else? Like down farther...or should I save that for after I pull out, and you’re all messy, and I can clean you up?”

_Why does that do it for me?_ Mao frantically thinks, gasping out a breath when Ritsu’s tongue teases him like that, sending a shudder straight down his spine and to his cock. He jerks and twitches, groaning as he pants into Ritsu’s neck, lasting another stroke of those long, perfect fingers before he spills all over Ritsu’s hand with a last, aching spasm that rakes through him. “R…itchan…gods…”

“Good boy,” Ritsu murmurs, and lets go of Mao’s cock, wrapping his hand around himself to finish off more quickly. “Ah...even just...thinking about you...makes me come so fast? Always...hnn, I just wanna feel you everywhere, you’re so pretty, so spicy, I just--”

He gasps, and comes over his own fingers with a long groan. He only barely manages to avoid biting again, and forcibly retracts his fangs, riding out the last few pangs. “You’re...so good, I...I love this so much...love you...so much...”

Mao huffs quietly, slumping against Ritsu as he slowly pets a hand down his back, curling his fingers against his spine. He’s overly warm now, courtesy of the fire still hot behind them and the sweat dripping down his spine, but moving away isn’t something he finds himself capable of. “Love you, too,” he murmurs, his forehead thunking against Ritsu’s shoulder. “Spicy, huh.” 

“See, that’s how I know you’re a virgin,” Ritsu says with a yawn. “You should know not to bring up anything guys say during the act...but you are _totally_ spicy.”

“I’m not a virgin,” Mao grumbles, snuggling close in spite of how sticky they both are. Not being plastered against Ritsu right now actually is an uncomfortable thought, and he decides that has something to do with that bond—it _has_ to be that. “You’re so pretty,” he sighs, pressing a kiss to the side of Ritsu’s neck. “’s not fair.” 

“Yeah,” Ritsu agrees. “It’s not fair. My mom’s a succubus, what’d you expect? Gotta be pretty enough to ensnare men and lure them back to my lair, hehe.”

“I’m ensnared. You’ve ensnared me. Good job.” Mao lifts a shaky hand to touch the bite marks on his neck, shivering a little as he does. “And you didn’t even eat me all the way. See, nothing to worry about.” 

“If I’d had my teeth in you when I came, you’d be dead,” Ritsu murmurs dreamily. “Or maybe you wouldn’t. I dunno. But I’m too hungry right now to test.”

“You can bite me again later. Test it then.” Mao’s eyes lid, then slide fully shut. “I told you before—if I’m going to die, it might as well be by you.” 

“And if I’m finally gonna develop self-control after almost a hundred years,” Ritsu murmurs, flopping down on the ground, “it’s definitely going to be because of you.”


	40. Chapter 40

From the Academy, it’s a one-day ride to the Capital--if one can find the way. But from the middle of the wilderness, somewhere between the Academy and the Shadowlands and High Harbor, back to the Academy, is considerably longer a trip. Leo makes the trip as quickly as he can, while still giving Tempo enough stops to keep him healthy. 

At some point, unfortunately, he gets lost, and wanders off the path. Four confusing (and hungry) days later, he stumbles back on the main road, blinking confusedly around at the road and the surrounding foliage. He’s been here before, he’s sure--but where? On the road to the Academy, or the Capital? Towards High Harbor, or is he West of that? He squints wearily towards the distance, but he can make out neither signs, nor buildings, nor the steep mountains of the Sharps. Squinting up at the sun, he makes a decision, and heads West. Surely, he’d wound up East of the Capital.

He sees no one for several leagues, and Tempo looks sideways at him as if he’s starving to death. “Don’t give me that look. You can eat grass--and you have been, you fat beast, you’re going to be fatter than Vale.”

Finally, he spots a few travelers on the horizon, and kicks Tempo into a canter, calling out. “Hello! Excuse me! Do you have any water that doesn’t taste like mud?”

The voice rings out so familiarly that several heads turn, but none so fast as the Sena heir of the North. 

Izumi whirls Vale on a dime, the horse obliging far more cheerfully than one would expect—probably because it’s Leo, that’s _absolutely_ Leo’s voice. For the moment, lingering worry and resentment flutters out the window, because nothing else matters when it’s _Leo_. “Who taught you to come up to random travelers like this?” he snaps, spurring Vale forward to meet him halfway. “We could be thieves, Milord, or worse, a bunch of Southerners!” 

Leo’s heart leaps into his chest, and he spurs Tempo furiously forward into a reluctant gallop. “Fate is absolutely real!” he crows in delight, waving crazily as if Izumi can’t see him unless he does. “Ahhh, what are the chances? I’m gonna leap over, get ready to catch me!”

“Don’t kick Vale in the head this time, at least!”

Vale leaps forward, meeting Leo in time for his ridiculous jump over. Izumi catches him with a grunt, leaning back to make room for Leo in front of him as he slows Vale back to a trot, ignoring the half-hearted buck he gives at being interrupted in the middle of an actual _run._ “Look at you, you idiot,” he exhales, crushing Leo to his chest with one arm, unable to even look him in the eye for fear that he’ll burst into tears. He whirls Vale around, catching back up to Tempo, who slows to a grumpy, irritated walk, and makes it easy to catch him by the reins. “You’re skinny and so is your horse. Why are you traveling alone, you need a proper escort.” 

“Got lost,” Leo admits, muffled against Izumi’s chest. His arms squeeze, and he inhales a deep, ragged breath. “You’re...oh, god, I can’t--I can’t do this, I can’t live away from you for so long, I, I love you so much, you were right about everything, did you get my gift?”

Izumi pulls Vale down to a walk, cradling Leo firmly against his chest still. His heart thumps too-hard, too-fast, and he can’t resist the aching relief that slides through him, no matter how the logical part of his brain tells him it’s _stupid_. This has happened before, he’s trusted too much out of Leo’s mouth before, but…

He can’t stop doing that now, even after everything else.

“No, I didn’t,” he softly says, half-burying his face down into Leo’s hair. “I left my mother’s camp barely a day after you ran off, so if you sent it there…” 

Leo’s mouth twists in a grimace, but he doesn’t pull away. “Ah. Sorry to your mother about the cleanup, then. Lord Karn--I left his body at your mother’s camp. Well, threw him from the walls. I left a note and everything, with a little drawing.”

Izumi’s mouth opens, then shuts, and he pulls Vale and Tempo to a complete stop. “You…did what?” His pulse thunders in his ears. “You’re not just… _saying_ this, are you?” 

“Hey!” Leo pulls back, injured, and thumps Izumi’s chest. “I don’t lie about murder. I challenged him to a duel for being a scoundrel with no honor, and he tried to run away, so I shot him. Then I tied a little note to the arrow, and dumped him over the wall in your mom’s camp, where I thought you were.”

Izumi stares down at him, sucks in a sharp breath, and snatches him close again, kissing Leo so hard that he’s sure he tastes blood. “Thank you,” he whispers, abandoning both horses’ reins to sink his hands into Leo’s hair and kiss him again. The relief that runs through him is so sharp and abrupt that he hears his breath hitch in a sob before he can stop it, even if he isn’t crying. “ _Thank you_ —I’m serious, thank you. Gods, I don’t know what changed, but I don’t care, thank you.” 

“I stopped being an idiot,” Leo admits, wincing. “And a coward, I think. But that was days ago, I’ve done _more_ stupid things since then, are you going to help me get out of it or not?”

Tempo veers to the side, grumpily trying to munch on the sparse grass near the road, and Izumi follows after him, grabbing for his reins again. “Obviously,” he mutters, urging Vale forward with a shaky little sigh. “You’ll have to tell me everything, so I know what I’m dealing with. Before then, though, we’re heading West, so you’ve got good timing.” 

“Mm, no, you have to go to the Capital,” Leo says cheerfully. “You’ve got to fight my father’s Captain of the Guard, one on one.”

“Right, I’m going to need more explanation,” Izumi flatly says. “Because right now, we’re heading West, to get a proper army and to scare the shit out of your father.” 

“Or,” Leo says firmly, “we can convince literally three people to be on our side, and we’ve got my father out of power. The Captain of the Kingsguard, the President of the Merchant’s Guild, the Emperor of the Academy, and the next in line for the throne--if we all agree, then Father is ousted from power _peacefully_. Isn’t that wonderful? No war! No weapons of doomsday--oh, right, I need to tell you about Father’s terrible weapon.”

“Stop, stop—this sounds like an enormous, unlikely pipe dream. I love you, but trying to get the Emperor to side with you? Unlikely, in the face of all of this, and…if your father has a doomsday weapon or something like it, you _really_ should have mentioned that first thing.” 

“I...yes. I should have. But I was distracted by seeing your face.” Leo blinks up, eyes welling with tears. “I’m...I love you so much, and I’m so hungry.”

“You,” Izumi says, both wearily and fondly, “would die in the wild, left to your own devices.” He leans back, shoving a hand into one of his saddlebags and depositing a whole wrapped pouch of dried meat into Leo’s hands. “Please eat it, I can’t stand the stuff. When you’re not delirious, we’ll talk more, all right? But in the meantime, we’re absolutely going West. Oi, Kasa!”

Tsukasa’s head turns as they ride closer, and he heaves a long-suffering sigh. “I see our prince has returned to us,” he says. “Hello, Your Highness.” 

“Take his horse, would you? We might need to stop early, he needs to be fed,” Izumi says, shaking his head. “This idiot doesn’t know how to survive on his own.” 

“‘m not delirious,” Leo protests, mouth full of awful meat that tastes incredible, as hungry as he is. “‘m delicious.”

“Eh? Our precious prince has returned? Well, that is a miracle, isn’t it!”

“Or you’ve somehow managed to form a resonant bond,” Shu suggests, shifting uncomfortably in his saddle. “Either way, can we please turn in for the night? My more masculine parts are no longer feeling as protected as they were before freedom.”

“Riding like a man is the _worst_ ,” Natsume says, joining in on the complaining bandwagon. “I agree with Lord Shu, let’s stop early.”

“Gods, but you all are delicate,” Izumi mutters, shaking his head as he shoves off Tempo into Tsukasa’s care. “Fine, fine, we can set up camp early. Don’t talk with your mouth full, Milord.” 

Tsukasa tsks, pulling Tempo along next to him, much to Fianna’s immediate distaste. “I’ll ride ahead and scope out a spot,” he says, and does just that, spurring his horse forward before she gets the idea of kicking Tempo into next week. 

Leo nods ahead of them, at Tsukasa. “He’s a good boy. Ah, wait--” He turns to Natsume, frowning, head cocked. “Who’s this boy? You ride like a noble, but _badly_.”

Natsume scowls at him. “How dare you.” 

“Remember the lady of the house in High Harbor?” Izumi teases, giving Leo’s hair a little tug. “That’s what he looks like when he’s slumming it like the rest of us. Cute, huh?”

“I’m not—how _dare you_ ,” Natsume snaps, twisting in his saddle to glower at Leo and Izumi both. “I’ll cast a spell on you both and you’ll regret even speaking to me. Better yet, I’ll look into your futures and—“

“He’s a Nightcloak, apparently,” Izumi continues, unfazed. “And a complete brat, but I can handle that when he’s so nice to look at.”

“Can you really see the future?” Leo asks eagerly, leaning way over, hooking his foot behind Izumi’s leg as he thrusts out his hand. “Can you read my palm? Am I going to become king? Am I going to die? _Will I ever go to the moon?_ ”

Natsume regards him skeptically. “Are you going to help Lord Rei?” he bluntly asks. “If you aren’t, I don’t like you.”

“He’s like a cat,” Izumi murmurs into Leo’s ear, keeping an arm snugly about his waist to help him balance. “Sharp and mean, and very particular. Be sweet to him or Shu will round on you faster than I’ve ever seen.”

“Ah,” Leo whispers back sagely, then thrusts his hand forward again. “Can’t you tell if I’m going to help him?”

“The prince is a good boy,” Arashi assures Natsume, clapping him probably-too-hard on the shoulder. “As His Excellency Rei is to the Academy, so His Highness Leo is to the King, no?”

Natsume topples forward on his horse, and hisses at Arashi through his teeth, shrugging off his touch with another low, annoyed sound. “Reading your future doesn’t tell me anything about the kind of man you are,” he stubbornly says, but he twists in his saddle, sitting in it far more naturally once both legs are on one side, and grabs Leo’s hand. “And I won’t take anyone’s word for it until I see you keep your word.”

He examines Leo’s palm, frown still firmly in place. “Your head line is the most annoying thing I’ve ever seen,” he bluntly says. “You’re super wishy-washy, aren’t you.”

Izumi snorts in spite of himself, and Natsume clicks his tongue. “And your heart line is way too long in comparison. You can’t keep changing your mind all the time if you’re still trying to let yourself be tied down by one person.” 

“Eh? Changing my mind?” Leo scowls, snatching his hand back. “That’s not fair, I’ve only wanted the same person forever, he’s the one that keeps hopping into everyone else’s beds.” He reaches around, pinching Izumi’s hip.

“Are we changing course, splitting the group, or what?” Shu asks, rubbing his eyes.

Natsume stares back at Leo. “You’re an idiot,” he says dismissively, and flips back around in his saddle, tossing his ponytail over his shoulder.

“Nothing is changing right now,” Izumi firmly says, smacking Leo’s hand away. “We’re going to make camp, I’m going to hear what Leo has to say, and I’ll deal with it.” 

“And I’m going to eat,” Leo says, stuffing the empty pouch of beef back in the saddlebags. “A lot. And so is Tempo, even though he’s been eating lots of grass. I tried it, but it just gave me diarrhea.”

“Charming,” sighs Arashi.

“I changed my mind, I’m leaving him here,” Izumi sighs, half-heartedly trying to shove Leo out of the saddle.

Natsume pulls his horse closer to Shu, still frowning, and Mika, silent up until this point, peers around them both to get a better look at Leo for a moment. “Yuck,” he says underneath his breath, sticking out his tongue as he looks away.

“Don’t stick your tongue out at your prince,” Shu lectures softly. “It’s not mannerly.”

“Don’t leave me, Izumi,” Leo whines, winding his arms around Izumi much more tightly. “I’m so weak, I’ll die in an hour!”

Izumi remains unmoved, staring straight ahead. “No, you’re not, you’re just hungry, you lunatic.”

Mika’s lips purse as he shrugs, not offering another comment. 

Fortunately, they catch up to Tsukasa in short order, and Izumi gently gives Leo a shove once they veer off the road, far into the woods and into the decently cleared area where Tsubasa has already hobbled Fianna and Tempo both. “Off. I’ll deal with your horse.” 

“Sorry about these accommodations, Your Highness,” Tsukasa apologizes. “We’re still trying to be careful by staying out of inns and the like.”

“Considering he doesn’t even know how to hunt with that bow of his, this must feel like paradise,” Izumi deadpans, dismounting and pulling Vale’s reins over his head. 

“I feel bad killing animals,” Leo admits, hitting the pine needles with a little oof, laying there and letting the needles thread into his hair. He tries to get his hands under him, but his head spins, and he just closes his eyes instead. “Where’s the justice? I can’t think of any animals to eat me eventually, seems unfair.”

Shu swings off his saddle with a groan, and an expression of distaste. “I certainly hope we don’t have to go that far in a single day again,” he says reproachfully. “It’s quite...bruising.”

“Wizards are so cute and soft,” Arashi says with a sigh, swinging lightly off of Neigh, then moving to help lift Mika down out of his saddle. “Sorry we don’t have your sedan chair here, Excellency. Natsume, Excellency, do you need a hand down?”

“Don’t help him up, just leave him there,” Izumi warns Tsukasa when he regards Leo worriedly. “He’s fine, trust me. I’m a healer now or something.” 

Mika dangles from Arashi’s neck, and Natsume snorts, sliding out of the saddle with surprising ease. “That’s not a prince,” he says, regarding Leo skeptically. “That’s a _squirrel.”_

A snort escapes Mika at that, and he peers over Arashi’s shoulder one last time at Leo before wrinkling his nose and sinking flat onto his feet again. 

Tsukasa ignores Izumi’s advice, and walks over, offering Leo his hand. “Up with you, Your Highness, that’s no place for a prince. I’ll go hunt something if you’re unable, and we can have fresh meat…which it looks like you sorely need.”

Izumi shakes his head and deals with the task of their horses—especially Tempo, who looks close to lying down just as much as Leo had. He’s still jittery, wary to further push any conversation along. Going West makes _sense_ —nothing that had come out of Leo’s mouth did, and now, with a bunch of wizards eyeballing Leo so nervously… 

Vale tries to headbutt him sideways, and Izumi sighs, rubbing a hand across his eyes. “Arashi, I’ll take care of Neigh and the others, just bring them over.” 

“Don’t be silly, I’ll take care of the horses. You have a more important beast to wrangle,” Arashi says, taking Tempo’s reins. “And I’m not afraid of your demon horse. Go on and take care of the prince. Looks like he needs it even more.”

“Tsukasa...what kind of a king do you think you’d be?” Leo mumbles, not entirely sure who he’s talking to, but pretty sure he knows that red hair. “How about rights for moon people? Support or condemn?”

Izumi hesitates, perhaps too visibly and for too long, but he nods eventually. “Thanks,” he murmurs, stepping away and snatching Leo away from Tsukasa in short order. “Come on, you idiot. Let’s get some water in you first.” 

He drops down into the first dry patch of earth he finds, and shrugs at Tsukasa, who watches nervously as he pulls Leo into his lap. “He’ll be fine, trust me,” Izumi sighs, unfastening his water skin. “Leo, you’re more functional than this and we both know it, you already ate something. Here, drink some water, and start explaining the situation to me.” 

Leo gulps a few sips, then straightens up, sighing deeply. “All right. Pick your topic, I’ll explain everything I can, but don’t interrupt, all right?”

Nearby, Mika has already made a veritable nest for himself, Shu, and Natsume, and those sharp, mismatched eyes still watch Leo on occasion, disapproving. _Why?_ Izumi shifts, pulling his cloak around the two of them. “Start with your father. You obviously went to go and speak to him.” 

“Oh, yes.” Leo pushes his hair back from his head, exhaling deeply. “He found a weapon that Grandfather’s scientist wizards made for him when the war was happening. He’s planning to use it on your mother’s forces on the next new moon, so we’ve got about a week until that. That’s why I couldn’t stop to rest. It’d wipe out her whole camp, and destroy the land for centuries, not to mention poisoning the water for everyone downstream for years and years. And that’s why even the Emperor might side with me, he doesn’t want that either.”

“So I’m assuming that your father did _not_ want to negotiate with you in any way, shape, or form.” 

“...Yeah. He basically told me that I could come back, as long as I relinquished all power or influence until he was completely dead. And didn’t oppose him on a single issue. And I...” Leo swallows. “I was stupid. I saw him--my uncle--standing next to my father, and Tsukasa’s father on the other side, and my uncle just, he just _smiled_ , and I thought about what he did to you, and...”

He shrugs helplessly. “I was weak before. I thought I could make it all work out. I was an idiot. So I told him I was going to oppose him, and he said I had no place in his regime. But it takes a long time to confirm a new heir while the old one is still alive, so technically, I’m still the crown prince. And _then_ I ran into Lord Karn, and he said things I couldn’t forgive, so...I changed my mind about that too, whoops.”

“You can’t keep changing your mind all the time if you’re still trying to let yourself be tied down by one person.” 

_“Fucking soothsayers,” Izumi mutters to himself, giving Leo a slow squeeze around the waist. This is why he’s never let Natsume give him a reading of any sort, now that he’s unsealed and can see far too much. It’s unnerving. “So your father is an ass, called that one. He wants to blow everything up, didn’t call that explicitly, but all right, that needs to be dealt with.” He tilts his head back, briefly shutting his eyes. “What’s this nonsense about me needing to fight the current Captain of the Kingsguard, then?”_

“Oh! Yes, there’s this thing, this ancient practice, where if I can get Sword, Spell, Crown, and Coin to agree, we take over,” Leo says, eyes lighting up. “And I’m the Crown. Coin will agree, apparently he’s friends with Shu, and I’ve talked to the Captain of the Kingsguard. He says he’ll agree if _my_ champion can beat him in a fight, so that’s you.” Leo beams. “You said you always wanted to try fighting someone better than you for real, right? And I’m not afraid, because you apparently can’t die!”

“We’ll come back to that. Back up to the part where you think the Spell—which I’m assuming is the Emperor, as you mentioned him before—will agree to this and work with you.” 

“Right! Well, first of all, I’m apparently uneducated. Did you know a blood pact doesn’t work on everyone?”

“…Yes. Yes, I did.” Izumi swears Mika looks their way again at that, eyebrows raising, and then looks away again. “But it was news to me not too long ago. Why?” 

“Er, the Emperor and I...” Leo spreads his hands, smiling weakly. “I thought it would be a pretty easy way to get a vote. Didn’t go how I expected.”

Izumi pauses, and his brow slowly furrows. “Wait. You…actually…with someone other than me?” 

“...Yeah. For the pact.” Leo pulls back, hands fisting, pressing against his thighs. “I didn’t mean to. But if it meant saving the lives of every Northman out there, I’d...is it too rude to say I’d let the whole Academy fuck me? I think that’s too rude, but it’s probably true.”

“…Sorry, I’m still stuck on the fact that you actually, _finally_ did it.” Izumi lifts a hand, covering his mouth in contemplation. “Huh. Well, shit. I mean, I’m having mixed emotions, like wanting to punch him in the face, but at the same time, it’s a bit of a relief, even if he obviously fucking lied to you.” 

“I’m an idiot,” Leo says softly. “You can say it. Everyone else is. I’m too optimistic, and too blind to what I don’t want to see, I know it.”

“I’ve been telling you that you’re an idiot since I met you,” Izumi dismissively says, fluttering a hand. “Was it at least good sex? Tell me you got _something_ out of him.”

Leo’s cheeks flush deeply, and he ducks his head. “Better than I’d expected. I thought he’d be cruel, but he really wasn’t, not like I thought. You aren’t...angry with me? You don’t think I’m disgusting?”

“Idiot,” Izumi mutters, reaching a hand up to thoroughly muss Leo’s hair. “You could have an orgy with everyone in the Academy, as you just put it, and I wouldn’t think that about you. I’m just pissed that the guy clearly lied to stick it in you, but that doesn’t mean I’m mad at _you_. You know, with that in mind, I’m not exactly keen on trusting this whole ancient practice idea. How do you know he’s going to follow through?” 

“Oh, I don’t,” Leo admits. “But I have a sort of...ah, I think plan is too strong? An idea, at any rate. And there’s the fact that he doesn’t like my father any more than he likes me, because Father is fat and old and not interesting, and the Emperor....I mean, he’s a lot of things, but he’s not boring?” 

Leo leans forward, butting his head against Izumi’s shoulder. “I’m glad you don’t hate me. None of this...would mean anything, if I didn’t have you.”

_My feelings are still hurt, I’m not over it, I can’t quite trust you in the same way_ —those are all things that flutter through Izumi’s mind, but Leo’s right. He doesn’t hate him. That would be impossible. “What’s your idea, then?” Izumi quietly asks instead, petting a hand slowly down Leo’s back. “Because right now, I’m not convinced to go and fight some asshole in the capital.” 

“Oh, it’s pretty simple,” Leo admits, shifting to lay against Izumi’s chest. His heartbeat thuds steadily, slowly syncing up with Izumi’s, the way it’s meant to. “The reason the Emperor has control over wizards is because they’re not citizens of the realm, right? But at some point, they were. And when they bloom, someone like Keito or Mao, a wizard adjunct, presents papers to the king, who signs each one to turn them officially over, as long as the Academy promises, essentially, to train and deploy the wizards for the good of the kingdom.” Leo shrugs. “If he won’t work with me, I’ll stop signing wizards over, when I become king. It’s our stopgap against the Academy getting too powerful.”

“I mean…that _sounds_ fine,” Izumi hedges, looping his arms low about Leo’s waist to keep him close. “But who’s to say that the Emperor won’t just…override you and take the wizards anyway? I don’t know. I’m not familiar enough with how the Academy works. This sounds like something you should run by Shu, if he’s in a good enough mood to hear it.” 

Leo shrugs. “He can’t do that without becoming an outlaw, and an enemy of the crown--and his magic sniffers, the ones that find and identify new wizards? They’re not Academy property. They work for the crown. And they can be prosecuted by the crown. So unless he wants to become his own foreign power, inconveniently located right next to the Capital’s armed forces, with absolutely no help coming to him from any direction, he’d have no choice. It’s not like he can secede, wizards are sterile, they can’t have children. They’d all be dead in a generation. I mean, it wouldn’t be great for the realm either, but we could survive a split. They couldn’t. My ancestors weren’t _totally_ stupid.”

Izumi exhales a slow breath. “Maybe not,” he agrees. “All right. Let’s assume he decides to work with you for this current situation. What about when you decide to pressure him into changing some of the laws? Everything I’ve heard says he’s a total control freak—I’m not trying to say it won’t work,” he quickly adds. “Just…I don’t think he’ll step back as easily as you say he will, so I want you to be prepared for that.” 

Leo’s mouth quirks. “Honestly? I’m kind of hoping that your friend the Demon King kills him before that,” he says frankly. “Everyone tells me he wants to. And if not, well, then, I’ll have to get good at being a king, right?”

“Ah…yeah…I was about to mention that,” Izumi admits, and lowers his voice, for all the good it does. “Shu’s been more and more anxious over the past couple of days. I’d be shocked if something doesn’t happen soon. What, who knows, but they all seem fairly convinced that the Demon King’s going to tear the Academy to literal pieces. If that’s the case…I’m assuming your father can kiss his amazing magical death weapon good-bye as well.” 

“A nice thought,” Leo says gloomily, “but the weapon’s already made. Father just has to wait for the new moon to use it. It doesn’t even need a wizard to operate--it was invented in my grandfather’s time, early on, when there weren’t nearly as many wizards. At this point, all it needs is the new moon and someone to turn a crank, and everyone in its way....”

Izumi pats his back and straightens up where he sits, glancing over to Shu. “Oi,” he tosses over. “Shu—what’s the likelihood of getting a message to your husband and have him at least put out feelers to destroy a disastrous magical weapon by the new moon?” 

“I’d say there were a lot of factors involved,” Shu calls back, “but I’ve never met something he couldn’t destroy if he tried hard. Where is it located?”

“The Capital, I think?”

My lord? Are you awake?

_“Ah, it’s so weird when he goes all fuzzy-eyed like that,” Arashi remarks, feeding Mika a biscuit._

“I think it’s cool,” Mika says with an admiring sigh, munching away.

“Now, either way, I still think we should head West and have an army ready and at our disposal—listen to me, before you argue,” Izumi firmly says, covering Leo’s mouth with one hand. “Because even if we don’t have to use them, having them already ready is a threat your father can’t ignore. Even if he’s forced to step down from some ancient agreement thing, do you honestly think he’ll do so peacefully? That his followers will do so peacefully? That’s a lot to expect from a man that told you to sit down and be pretty when you returned.” 

I am now, more or less. Ah, you feel very vivid in my mind tonight, how delightful.

_Leo’s brow furrows. He opens his mouth to argue, then huffs. “You’re probably right. I yield about that. Fine, I’ll agree, let’s gather an army. Looks like you’ve got that part under control?”_

I’m quite close to you. So close I feel as if I could reach out and touch you...ah, if only. You’re the one with elegant wings, my own would have to be clockwork. But enough poetry; apparently the king has some terrifying magical weapon of extermination in the Capital. Could you destroy such a thing?

_“That’s what we’re going to find out.” Izumi gestures vaguely towards the pile of wizards. “The West likes wizards, and Arashi. So we have Arashi and two Nightcloaks and a Nooncloak that they just call that because apparently, he’s too fucking weird to be called anything else. That’s a good start to convince a bunch of people that already are ticked off, I think…combined with my mother and her forces, I don’t think your father can ignore that.”_

I know of it already. The Emperor’s little baby wizard has spoken about it several times—apparently, his family helped originate it. It’s adorable that they think it’ll be put to use. There’s a pause, and then—How close? I might need those clockwork wings of yours within a day, maybe two, no more.

_“You have one Nightcloak and a Nooncloak,” Shu says abruptly, repacking his bags. “My lord requires my presence.”_

I’ll be there, my lord. I’m no more than a half-day’s ride. Where and when?

_“Eh?” Natsume is the first to bolt upright, concern written openly across his face. “But you can’t leave, not alone.”_

“Good, that means something is happening,” Izumi says, fluttering a hand. “Godspeed, get laid, blow up the world. I can’t imagine anything else is going to come of this, after what you’ve told me.” 

It’ll be within the Academy, but there’s no need for you to surrender yourself. I’ll pull you in and they’ll be none the wiser. 

_“…Is he out of the Academy?” Mika warily asks, watching Shu with a frown. “Master, you’re not gonna get captured, are you?”_

“It’s really none of your concern,” Shu says, flapping a hand at all of them. “All I need is a horse to get me close. The less you all know about it, the better. Behave yourselves,” he says firmly to Mika, then to Natsume, giving them both firm looks. 

Then he swings up onto his horse without further preamble, and rides down the road. _I’m coming, my lord. On my way now._

“And they say _I’m_ changeable,” Leo mutters, not without a tinge of admiration.

Natsume nervously watches Shu leave before slowly settling again, and huddles back up into his cloak, knees drawn to his chest. “Nothin’ changeable about it,” Mika grouses, flopping back down with a worried sigh all the same. “They’ve planned on this for years, I’ll bet.”

“I just appreciate that I can call the Demon King his husband, and he doesn’t even bat an eye. I’m still counting on that law, by the way,” Izumi insists, giving Leo’s ass a pinch. “C’mon, make me royalty before my mom does it forcibly.” 

Leo gives Izumi a little smile, though it’s shy. “Would you believe that I’ve been working on it? I’ve sent off a few letters to some of my father’s law advisors, asking about how to do such a thing.”

Izumi blinks, then huffs, giving Leo a firm squeeze. “Well. Good. I apologize in advance for my mother, then. She doesn’t approve of the match, but she can get over it.” 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Mika butts in, his eyes trained on Leo once more. “But now that Master’s gone, I can be rude. Can I give y’like, a magical wipe-down, Milord? You reek of the Emperor and it’s makin’ me wanna gouge my good eye out.” 

“Do I really? Ah, I suppose drowning myself in that river didn’t work. Hmm. Yes, please, I’ll take a wipe-down,” Leo agrees, splaying out on the ground. “Do I have to do anything?”

“Nope.” 

“Why did you drown yourself in a river?” Izumi incredulously asks. “How can he possibly _reek_ of anything, honestly—“ 

“Magically, y’dumb snake,” Mika mutters, a dark purple, almost black flame dancing at the tips of his painted fingernails before he flicks it over, and it sets itself onto Leo, painlessly spreading over him in a strange, black bonfire, of sorts. “I can’t stand the Emperor’s signature, it grosses me out. He sure did fake the whole blood pact nonsense, didn’t he.” 

“When I was young,” Leo says, shivering under the odd sensations, “they told us that large amounts of rushing water would cancel out magic--that’s why the Isles aren’t under the jurisdiction of the Academy, because they can’t sense anything that far out. I guess the river wasn’t big enough?”

“Nah, you gotta really wanna drown yourself if you wanna cancel out magic.”

“That sounds beyond fake,” Izumi says, exasperated. 

Mika shrugs, leaning back and drawing a knee up to his chest to plop his chin down onto it. “Whatever, I’m burnin’ him, it’s fine. Hey, so, fair warnin’, if you’re friends with the Emperor, we can’t be friends.” 

“Mika—“

“No, you hush,” Mika interrupts, not even glancing at Izumi. “I’m not threatenin’ him, not yet. But I’m not fucking around. I’ll never go back to an Academy where that guy is in charge of me, got it?”

Leo holds Mika’s oddly disconcerting gaze, as calmly as he can. “All I ever promised was that I’d put as much pressure as possible on the Academy to change unfair laws. I don’t go around promising to kill people or remove them from power just to make myself stronger. I’ve made my promises, right? If that Emperor can’t follow my rules, he won’t get to call himself that anymore--assuming I win, of course, wahaha! Otherwise, you get Tsukasa’s papa. You think he’s going to be better about standing up to that guy?”

Mika stares back at him, his head cocking to the side. “Tsukasa was running around plottin’ a rebellion before you,” he bluntly says. “So I dunno. Maybe his daddy raised him better. Like with _eyes._ ” 

“Why are you talking about me?” Tsukasa asks as he walks back into camp, a couple of limp rabbits tossed over his arm. “Did I miss something? Uh…is the prince supposed to be on fire, or—“

“Yes, and that’s enough of this,” Izumi interrupts. “Mika. He’s doing everything he can, leave it be.” 

That odd, two-toned gaze fixes on him for a moment. “Fine. If you say so. I ain’t the one that was cryin’ about this shit the other day,” Mika moodily says, and the fire dissipates from Leo with a wave of his hand before he flops back into his nest, curling up underneath his cloak. 

Leo turns guiltily to face Izumi, not daring to go near him. “I made you cry?” he asks, that familiar turning in his stomach starting up again. “I won’t do it again, I’m--I’ve figured some things out, honestly. I just! I have to--to see how...uggggh, grrrr, I hate words sometimes!”

“He cries about you all the time, you big idiot,” Mika tosses over bitingly, but in desert tongue. The inflection of sounding _quite_ insulting still remains.

Izumi grimaces, and reaches out, grabbing Leo by the shoulders. “It’s fine, don’t pay attention to him. He’s just cross because Shu’s gone.” His heart thuds painfully in his chest, and his expression is wry as he toys with the end of Leo’s ponytail. “Just don’t go and give my mother more reasons to dislike you, all right? She fancies the idea of me on the throne too much now.” 

“I can’t say I haven’t fancied the idea of you on the throne multiple times,” Leo says wryly. He reaches out, running his hands through the long strands of Izumi’s hair, tugging him close. “We used to talk about it all the time...you having me on there after audience closes for the day...ahh, I’m glad your hair is long again. Feels right.”

“Be serious for a moment, honestly,” Izumi mutters, even as he pulls Leo close, back down into his lap as he settles down. “All we can hope for is that my mother will be mollified by the present you left behind, and…anything else we do. Otherwise, she’ll stay pissed forever, and she’s _young._ ” 

“Yes, all right?” Leo suddenly snaps, pushing Izumi away, standing up and running his fingers through his own hair, making it stand on end. “Yes, your mother will be mad at me. The Demon King will be mad at me, the Emperor will be mad--no, let’s say the real truth! Everyone wants me dead! No one thinks I can do a good job--everyone wants someone else--Father wants a different son, your mother wants a different consort for her son, the Demon King wants a different ally, the Emperor wants a docile doll, the wizards want a champion, you want revenge, the West wants protection from Inglings, the North wants representation and revenge, the Shadowlands think I’m a pathetic weakling, High Harbor wants their men on the throne, and absolutely everyone, even my lover, thinks I can’t keep a single one of my promises. I know! I know, no matter what I do, everyone is going to hate me, I just--I just--I’m trying. I’m--I don’t know how to save everyone, or keep everyone safe, or make this country what it should be, but I’m eighteen, and I’m trying so hard, and I haven’t slept for four days and I feel awful, and I just...” Tears spill down his face, hot streaks left behind as they splash off his chin, and he looks far, far older than his years.

“Leo—no, no, come here. Calm down, I don’t hate you, I’ll never hate you.”

Izumi lurches to his feet after him, grabbing for his hands, then his face, slowly squeezing his cheeks together. “I’m not angry with you,” he slowly, quietly says. “And I know how hard you’re trying. Believe me, I know. Come here, sit down, I’ll skin one of those rabbits for you, and you can have a real meal and a good, long sleep. We have a plan now, all right? We’re going West, the Demon King is handling your father’s nonsense _and_ the Emperor, and everyone is as safe as they can be right now.” 

“I don’t know if I can even...eat.” Leo sniffs, climbing into Izumi’s lap, burying his face in his shirt. “No matter what I do, it’ll hurt people. And if I sit back and let other people handle things, and someone gets hurt, then _that’s_ my fault too, and I...I never asked to be born a prince. Gods, don’t you think I _wish_ someone else would take over, and do a good job? And I could run off with you and be minstrels or something?”

“You’re going to have to eat, because I’m telling you to,” Izumi says, and firmly, but gently, pries Leo out of his lap and sits him on the ground. He unclasps his own cloak, wrapping Leo up into it, tucking the edges of it in to more or less swaddle him. “You’re not sitting back and doing nothing. You’re eating dinner, because that’s what normal people do, even princes, if they want to survive and keep doing their jobs. Also, I’ll never be a minstrel with you, you tease me about my voice too much.” 

“I already have one of them skinned, Lord Izumi,” Tsukasa quietly interrupts, stabbing the skinned rabbit through to spit-roast it over the low-burning fire. “His Highness is welcome to it when it’s done.”

“Thanks, Kasa.” Izumi leans over, mussing Leo’s hair. “You’re letting these moody wizards get to you too much, more than anything,” he softly says. “Stop.”

Leo takes in a deep breath, butting his head against Izumi’s hand, letting his eyelids flutter. “I’m sheltered, I know,” he says softly. “I spent most of my life in my father’s palace, and only left to be fostered by other people who wanted nothing more than to keep me safe and happy. I’m...not used...to all these people...thinking I’m going to be terrible, or break all my promises. I just want...to be a king that everyone can be proud of. Like Great-Grandfather. I just...I just want _you_ to be proud of me. I’d do anything for that.”

“Leo.” Izumi crouches down in front of him, gently grabbing up his face in one hand. “I don’t remember a single thing about your great-grandfather,” he bluntly says. “I don’t care at all about the things he did or whatever impressive empire he set out to build. Don’t compare yourself to anyone else, and just keep trying to…do anything at this point, I suppose. You’re surrounded by people that support you. They’re just a bit more critical because they’re just as tired as you are right now. All right?” 

“I don’t think anyone’s ever been as tired as I am right now,” Leo mumbles through a squished face. “Gah...just roll me up in a blanket and leave me, I’ll be embarrassed about all of this tomorrow.”

“After you eat.” Izumi turns around, pulling the spitted rabbit off the fire, and unwraps Leo enough from his cloak to shove the stick into his hand. “You’d yell at me to do the same, and you know it,” he sternly says. “I’m not going to travel with you unless you’ve eaten something. So eat what you can, then pass out, and wake up in the morning ready to not cry all over the place and make my hair salty, got it?” 

Leo nods, and takes a bite of rabbit, chewing slowly as flavors burst over his tongue, so fresh he whimpers. He finishes almost half of it, then hands it over, smiles, and promptly falls unconscious, slumping down to the ground.

Izumi sighs, and promptly tosses the rest of the rabbit to Tsukasa. “Good enough,” he mutters, pulling his blanket out of his things to wrap Leo in once more, and stuffing the bag itself underneath his head as a pillow. “Sorry, everyone. He’s not really himself right now.” 

“When’s the weddin’?”

“You, especially, aren’t helping, you little shit.” Izumi wipes a hand across the back of his eyes as he stands. “Arashi, corral your beast.”

Mika shrugs, kicking his feet slowly. “Someone had t’say somethin’. And I can think of a few choice words, but they don’t translate so well.”

“Mika, darling, would you like to be all wrapped up, too?” Arashi suggests sweetly, holding out a blanket. “Sounds like fun, and you won’t be tempted to get into, ah, trouble?”

Mika screws his face up and turns away, presenting Arashi with his back. “I ain’t gettin’ into any trouble, _kara_. I was jus’ sayin’ what I thought.” 

“It’s stressful. What you’re saying is stressful.” Izumi flops down onto the edge of their nest, wiping his hands down his face. “Don’t tell him I was crying again.” 

“Not like I was lyin’ about it. If I was makin’ _kara_ cry as much as he makes you cry, you’d say somethin’ about it.” 

“Stop. Just…stop. It was better when you hated me.” Izumi stares over at Leo until his vision starts to double. “I’m just going to go to bed.” 

“The further away from this place we are tomorrow…the better,” Natsume suddenly, softly says, curled up into a minuscule ball underneath his cloak. 

“Everyone is being so dramatic,” Arashi says, hands on hips as he steals a skewer of rabbit, popping a bit of meat into his mouth. “This is all good, right? His Excellency is about to do something fun and _finally_ get what he wants, Izumi got reunited with his lover, who’s not dead or even really inconvenienced, and our plan is still in place. The more you complain, the more it reminds me that very few of you have ever been in a war.”

“War is fine, I’m ready to kill someone,” Izumi mutters. “That’s not why I’m tired.” He flops back without another word, stealing Mika’s blanket straight out of Arashi’s clutches, and curls up into it. “Night.” 

“I don’t think Natsu meant it in an intentionally dramatic way,” Mika says mildly. “He was prolly tellin’ the future. We should pay attention to that stuff.” 

“Is it always so casual?” Tsukasa asks worriedly. “How can you tell what is or isn’t?” 

Mika shrugs, and steals a bite from Arashi’s skewer. “Who knows. It’s magic, and weird magic at that, I don’t know nothin’ about it.” 

“We’ll leave as soon as everyone wakes up,” Arashi assures Natsume, curling his arms around Mika. “Nothing like being well-rested to avoid our imminent doom, eh? That’s what I always say...or at least, I should start saying that, because it sounds really smart.”

“ _Kara’s_ really smart,” Mika agrees, nestling up against his chest with a pleased little sigh. “And y’don’t make me cry all the time, so you’re automatically superior to like, _everyone_.” 

“I know, _amaka_ ,” Arashi says with a hum, tugging their bedroll over both of them. “That’s because everyone else is not nearly as good, or cool, or pretty, or strong, or good at stabbing people with swords as I am. And I’m all yours!”

“All mine,” Mika hums, snuggling close, then squawks a little when Natsume paws his way over, burying himself into the bedroll as well. “He misses Shu,” he whispers to Arashi, pulling his cloak over Natsume as well. “They’re real close, so we gotta be nice to him.”

“Ahh.” Arashi brushes the hair back from Natsume’s face, tucking it behind his ear. “Nice how? Like cuddles? Or are you angling for another threesome, you little minx?”

Natsume promptly crawls over to get between them, then squirms down into a tiny ball, eye shut. Mika sticks his tongue out, rolling his eyes. “Nice like cuddles. He’s like, Master’s kid with the Demon King, that kinda thing. So just assume we’re babysittin’.” 

“I’m like, three years older than him,” Arashi complains, but folds Natsume into his arms for the aforementioned cuddles with a little sigh. “Don’t make me feel old, even if you’re willing to share my cuddles.”

“Only for now,” Mika grouses, snuggling close and draping his arms across Natsume and Arashi both. “Don’t forget you’re mine. I’m jus’ bein’ nice.”

“I hope you’re feeling very squished and spoiled,” Arashi says to Natsume. “Because I’m very warm, you should consider this a gift.”

“Mmph.” Natsume doesn’t even lift his head from where it’s buried into Arashi’s chest. “Found the warmest spot, is good. Kitties are experts at that. Now lemme sleep.” 

“It’s a good thing you’re the absolute cutest, _amaka_ ,” Arashi says, cheeks flushing. “Because otherwise, you’d have some competition.”


	41. Chapter 41

It’s not a restful sleep, but it’s something. 

Prying himself out of his blankets is easier said than done, but being overly warm and sore from sleeping on the ground forces Izumi up. The horses are grumbling, sick and tired of meager feedings on the road, but for once, Izumi’s focus isn’t on them.

It’s on Leo, awake before him for once, sitting on the far edge of camp and staring off into space. 

Izumi heaves a sigh, stretching his arms over his head before he slowly makes his way over. “Morning,” he softly greets, scooping up his cloak from where it has slid off of Leo’s shoulders, and pulls it back into place before he drops down next to him. “Feeling better now that you actually slept?” 

Leo gives Izumi a small smile, not looking away from the sunrise. “It’s so bright. It doesn’t care...that I’ve made mistakes. It doesn’t care that no one is as good or as strong as they want to be. If I fail, if I succeed, it won’t rise even one second earlier or later. So all I can do is try my best.” 

He looks over at Izumi, and his smile widens. “You’re like that for me, too. No matter how badly I mess up...you’re always here. I don’t know if I’ve ever thanked you for that.”

“You probably have, but you could do it again.” Izumi reaches over, absently mussing Leo’s hair. “For the record, I don’t think you’ve messed up yet. It’s not like the Emperor put a spell on you or something, or like you agreed to your father’s ridiculous terms.” 

“I admit I’m glad that weird wizard cleaned me off. I mean...he could have done a lot of things to me, honestly, but...” Leo grimaces. “I still feel like a fool for letting him take advantage of me. And for letting Father get into my head. And for thinking there was... _anything_ more important than doing right by you, even for a minute.”

Izumi falls silent for a moment, then exhales a slow, even breath from his nose. “Yeah,” he simply says. “That stung. But I’m going to let it go, and assume that was just the last bit of youthful idealism I had that needed to be let go, too.” He gives Leo’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “I’ve got a backup plan no matter how much you decide to piss me off now, so it’s fine.” 

Leo tucks his knees up under his chin. “I really, really didn’t want to think that my father would go along with all of that,” he says softly. “I...I disagree with a lot of his policies, foreign and domestic, but...I really wanted to believe that...if he _knew_ the things that were happening, he wouldn’t let them continue. I wanted to think that he...was a better person than that.” 

He swallows hard, lower lip trembling. “I don’t want to have to kill my father.”

“Come here.” 

Izumi tugs him over, an arm slung firmly around Leo’s shoulders to keep him close. “You don’t have to kill him, no matter what happens,” he quietly says. “If it comes down to that, I’ll do it.” 

“This is why I want to do the Quorum. Then he’d just be...powerless. You know, not every country is lucky enough to have a way to remove a bad ruler. Hey...” He offers a wry smile. “At least after he threatened to use that weapon, I know that I’m making the right choice.”

“I know why you wanted to do it. I just don’t have faith in your father to follow the rules and step down, you know? Especially if he’s got a giant doomsday weapon. I’ll still fight whoever you need me to fight, but first things first, time to show up with another army.” Izumi tilts his head to the side, knocking it lightly against Leo’s. “I can’t stop thinking it would be nice if the Demon King just sort of…blew up everything terrible. A clean slate sounds so soothing.” 

“But how can you know that only terrible things will get blown up?” Leo asks with a whisper. “If people could all make decisions for each other, and always do the right thing, we wouldn’t need kings, would we? And he seems like a nice man, but I’ve heard from lots of people that all he _really_ cares about is getting revenge for the humiliation the Emperor put his Excellency Shu through.”

“Then he’s already on the right track, because anyone who puts Shu through shit is a bad person,” Izumi bluntly says. “Leo, you can’t always assume _everything_ is going to go perfectly. And if I’m fucking say that, then you _know_ it’s got to be true, because aren’t I the biggest perfectionist you know?” He gives Leo a gentle shake. “You just have to trust that he’s going to do something right. What else can you do? You can’t be everywhere at once.” 

“And if I allow this to happen, and people die because of it, and I could have stopped it?” Leo grimaces. “I just can’t think that the best idea to make things right is to let people get all the vengeance they want. I mean...I know this is _terrible_ , but The Emperor hasn’t broken any laws. The men who tortured you, they did, and that’s something I can do a lot about. But The Emperor? I don’t know...but maybe that’s why I kinda want to leave it to your Demon King.”

“Yes, exactly. _Leave it to him_.” Izumi sits back with a shrug. “I don’t think you’ve got much of a choice at this point, Leo. He’s _going_ to do it, whatever it is. And I, personally, am not letting you run into the thick of that mess to stop it. It’s too dangerous, he doesn’t care enough about you to spare you if you get in the way, and it’s going to happen either way, so just let it be and focus on what you _can_ deal with.” He sighs, spreading his hands wearily. “Honestly, who the fuck even cares? Someone’s going to be on the throne, and so long as it isn’t your damned father or uncle at this point, I’ll be satisfied enough. I just want to sleep in a soft bed again, to eat good food, and not listen to my mother talk about how she wants me to marry some hairy Northerner.” 

Leo sucks in a breath, and it comes out as a sob before he muffles it into his hand. “S-sorry. I just--I thought you were going to call me s-spoiled, but I, I miss our life so much...before everything got all terrible, even if we had to sneak out to the stable all the time, it was _good_ , wasn’t it? I want, I want to care what mean things people said about us, I want to get upset when a stableboy puts my tack away wrong, I want to feel sad when my f-f-favorite food isn’t for dinner! I want to live like a p-person again!”

“I know. I know, love, come here.” 

Izumi exhales a slow breath, dragging Leo right into his lap and tucks his head underneath his chin. “You’re spoiled, but I think that’s a good thing,” he softly says, rubbing Leo’s back as he shuts his eyes. Ah, a couple of weeks ago, and he’d be sobbing like a baby, too, but even though his eyes sting, tears aren’t interested in coming. _That’s fair_ , he wearily thinks. _There’ve been too many of them lately._ “There’s nothing wrong with being used to nice things and good things happening, if you ask me.” 

Leo wipes his face on his sleeve, sniffing loudly and wetly. “I think...that’s what I want, more than anything in the world,” he admits. “I want--I want a country where everyone can be mad and upset about little stupid things. Where if you’re miserable, it’s probably your fault. That’s all I want, I want that for _everyone_.”

“Sounds like a good place to be,” Izumi wearily says, petting Leo’s hair. “Gods know I have enough to complain about on a daily basis, though I’m not interested in it being my fault.” 

Behind them on the other side of the camp, there’s a rustle of blankets, and it’s Natsume who emerges first. He doesn’t spare them a glance—instead, he just wanders past them, yawning into his hand as he disappears further into the woods, towards the stream that runs parallel to the road. “Mika’s weird, but that one’s just plain spooky,” Izumi murmurs, watching the red of Natsume’s hair disappear behind the thick of trees. “Being able to tell the future—that freaks me out.” 

“I don’t like him,” Leo says sadly, “because he didn’t tell me if I’ll ever go to the moon, so I’m guessing the answer is no. And that makes me _really_ sad.”

“Why do you want to go to the moon so badly, anyway?” Izumi exasperatedly asks, shaking his head. “Maybe ask him something useful, like ‘will I ever get married to a gorgeous Northern knight’, things like that.” 

“I don’t wanna ask about anything that I can make happen myself,” Leo says with a shrug. “That’d take all the fun out of it, don’t you think? Ahhh, Izumiiii, would you really marry me? How are we gonna continue our lines then, huh? Maybe you should get one of your wizard friends to let you actually give me kids, then we can continue _both_ our lines.”

Izumi rolls his eyes. “I don’t think there’s magic that works like that,” he says. “And more importantly, I’m guessing that requires you actually being willing to put it in me, which is a rare occurrence at best. I already have three daughters, apparently, that’s close enough.” 

“And we’ll find them,” Leo promises. “I...well, not to put too fine a point on it, but I’ve been informed by every priest and advisor that I’ve asked that it’s not going to work to just...let men marry men. Sort of. The laws are unchangeable that way, some weird clause. But they think I could probably change it to take, uh, legal concubines of any gender, rather than just women? I’m...it’s a work in progress, I dunno. I hate laws.”

“ _Excellent_ , then I can publicly be your whore,” Izumi dryly says, fluttering a hand dismissively. “I’ll pierce my nipples and tie myself to your throne like a whore from the Sandlands, that sounds about par for the course. Honestly, If I expect nothing, then I’ll never be disappointed. Sounds like a grand time.” 

Leo scowls, and leans over to bite Izumi’s shoulder. “I didn’t say I was gonna give up. Father always told me that things that are impossible as a prince are suddenly easy as a king. So..my idea of getting ahead of the game is suddenly not totally feasible or smart, I guess. That’ll teach me to plan ahead, wahahaa!”

“Yes, that’s absolutely the lesson to take away from that,” Izumi deadpans, pinching Leo’s hip. “Don’t bite me unless you’re planning to follow through. And before you do, we probably don’t have time. The spooky prophet boy said something about us needing to leave as soon as possible last night. I personally take that seriously.” 

Leo scowls, and uses Izumi’s shoulder as a firm surface to brace himself, climbing to standing. “I just hate knowing you weren’t the last man inside me,” he grumbles. “Fix that as soon as possible, when we have a chance. That’s an order from your prince.”

Izumi’s lips twitch, amused in spite of himself. “Was he as good as me?” he can’t help but press, casting his gaze upward to Leo. “You didn’t exactly hand out a ton of details, which is disappointing.” 

“You actually want details? Of me and another man?” Leo asks, startled.

Izumi snorts as he climbs to his feet, dusting himself off. “You’ve never once missed out on the opportunity to brag about your _other_ sexual exploits?” he asks, eyebrows raised. “It’s not like you’re in love with him. Go on, tell me.” 

“I’ve never had any other sexual exploits apart from you!” Leo says, scandalized. “Who’s been lying to you?”

“That’s the point, dumbass,” Izumi says, leaning over to flick Leo lightly between the eyes. “Now you can bitch and moan about being sore the next day, or complain about what a sloppy kisser the bastard is, or whatever other details you want to throw out there. It’s fun, you don’t just have me as a marker anymore.” 

Leo groans, and drags his hands down his face, but smiles in relief. “He’s not as good as you, first of all,” he says to start. “Too fast. And his cock is _way_ too long, I felt like he was bruising the bottom of my ribcage. Thank you for being a reasonable size.”

“The perfect size, I think you mean, which is what every lady has ever told me,” Izumi smugly says. “Damn right he’s not as good as me. I have to admit, though, I always thought you’d be the one to enjoy a big cock,” he just _has_ to tease, poking Leo in the shoulder to neatly back him up against the trunk of a tree. “You certainly like talking about how it’s _too much_ , uwaa, Izumiii, not so hard~…” 

Leo’s blushes are so hot that he feels his face ache, and he slaps at Izumi’s chest. “All right, all right, I liked it,” he admits, feeling the tree at his back. “I...I even liked it after, when I had to ride a long way on my horse and it ached the whole way, all right?”

Izumi’s face lights up with intense amusement. “Heehh, obviously,” he says with a laugh, planting a hand next to Leo’s head. “That’s the best part. You’re blushing so much, what _else_ did he do? A big dick’s no good if they don’t use it properly.” 

“He didn’t warm me up at all, not like you do,” Leo says with a pout, feeling his body start to warm at the talk. It turns him on more than he’d expected, the embarrassment from baring all of this to Izumi, and his hand slides idly down, thumb brushing over a nipple through his shirt, making him shiver. He’s keenly aware of Izumi’s eyes on him, and he pitches his voice low. “It’s big, and he just talked me through it--wanted to turn me into his pretty pet that lived under his desk, you know? He got me to say it, ask for it...”

“Uh huh. He seems like the kind of guy that only wants a pet,” Izumi murmurs, stepping forward, his thigh sliding between Leo’s. No one’s hurrying them along yet, so why not? “Sounds like you’ll ask for anything now, though.” His own fingers trail down, replacing Leo’s, finding the hardening nub of his nipple through fabric and gently pulling on it. “Does that mean I’m going to have to start keeping a leash on my belt for you, just in case?” 

Leo’s knees wobble, and his lips part on a whine. He lets his head thunk back against the rough bark, and his thighs part eagerly. “Y-you said...we had to go soon,” he breathes, hands reaching up to fist in Izumi’s hair. “I-I’m...d’you wanna hear more, or...”

“No one’s waking up and telling me to go yet, sooo…” Izumi grins, turning his head to kiss the side of Leo’s neck, then nibble and suck his way up to the lobe of his ear, his tongue flicking out to toy with his earring. “Don’t worry,” he breathes, shoving up Leo’s shirt to _properly_ touch his nipples, pinching one slowly. “I’m nice. I’ll make sure you get off even if someone interrupts us. Not like it’s difficult, you’re so hard already just from telling me how big the Emperor’s dick is…” 

A shudder tears through Leo, and his jaw goes slack, hips canting up to rub his cock against Izumi’s muscular thigh. Just that little bit of friction, combined with the way Izumi toys with his nipples, makes him squirm and moan. “Wish you were watching,” he whispers, rubbing a little more, a little harder, searching for more friction, more pressure. “Wish you could have seen how, how easy I was for him...the things I let him do to me...”

Izumi growls low in his throat at that, shoving his thigh forward to press harder against Leo’s cock, feeling him hard and hot even through fabric. “I bet he took good care of you, huh?” he murmurs, his voice a low rasp as he pinches harder, pulling on the nipple between his fingers to make Leo arch. “How many times did you come for him?” 

“J-just oooonce,” Leo lets out on a whine, thrusting his chest out, a tear trickling down his cheek from sheer overstimulation. “He wanted--to feed it to me after, but--I had to go, he wants me to come back, but...”

“Just once? Then he’s _really_ not as good as me,” Izumi sighs, his fingers dragging away switching to the other nipple, up until now neglected. His other hand slides down, unlacing Leo’s breeches enough to slide into them, wrapping his fingers swiftly around the length of Leo’s cock, pulling and stroking, his thumb rubbing over the dripping tip. “I barely even have to touch you and you’re like this…ahh, you’re so cute, Leo, are you going to come just from me playing with your nipples?” His eyebrows raise. “Or from thinking about him shoving his big cock down your throat?” 

“Both,” Leo admits, back arching as he ruts up into Izumi’s hand. He feels himself twitch and pulse in Izumi’s hand, so close to spilling that it’s humiliating. “You could both--have me at once--you could show him how much better you are at fucking me than he is--you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Me spread out and begging, showing the great Emperor how well you f-fuck me?”

Izumi licks his lips at that, and his fingers tighten around Leo’s cock, squeezing, stroking harder whenever he feels Leo throb in his grasp. “Do you think you could take both of us at once?” he murmurs, his eyes lidded as his breath escapes hot against Leo’s ear. “You already said he made you sore…what’re you gonna do if we’re both in you at the same time, huh?” He slowly twists one of those nipples, drawing out the arch of Leo’s back. “You were probably thinking…oh, one in my mouth, one in my ass, hmm? Ah, but no, we’ll both be in your tight little hole and you’ll be so full that you can’t even move.” 

“Ahh!” 

Leo spurts over Izumi’s hand in a hot flood, one hand clapping over his mouth to keep from screaming. He shudders down to his toes, going limp in Izumi’s embrace, pitching forward against the broad strength of him. He hiccups, breath hitching. “It’s--it’s too much, it’s so much, please, I can’t take both of you--”

“Sure you can,” Izumi sighs, pleased, unable to help himself from dragging his now slick, sticky hand around to squeeze Leo’s ass, then teasingly press a pair of fingers against Leo’s hole, feeling him twitch and squirm. “I’ll make you nice and slick in here—and you’ll be so hungry for it that you’ll be begging for us to stay in there for hours. Maybe you’ll get knocked up for real this time.” 

Leo’s eyes roll back in his head, no matter that he’s oversensitive, no matter that he’s still shivering and coming. “Put it in,” he pleads, grabbing shakily for Izumi’s trousers, squeezing and fumbling to get his hands around that perfect cock. “Put it in me, please, just for a minute, let me make you come in me--”

Izumi hesitates…for about a second. _To hell with it,_ he thinks, pulling his hands away. “Fine,” he groans, his eyes fluttering as he rips at the laces of his breeches, pulling out his cock. He turns Leo around, yanking down the back of his breeches as he pushes him harder against the tree, and bites at his lip as his cock rubs a slick, sticky line along the cleft of Leo’s ass. “Arch your back for me,” he breathes, running a hand down Leo’s spine. “Show me how much you want it.” 

Leo’s back arches immediately, and his hands drag at the bark as he moans, cheek pressed against the rough surface. “Please, please--I can feel it, I need it in me, I’m so--please, I love your fingers in me, you know? It’s--I feel so empty without it--am I doing a good enough job? Satisfy your prince, already!”

“Demanding brat,” Izumi snorts, even as he yanks free a bottle of oil from his belt and pours it over his fingers. So much for putting it in Leo for _just a minute_ —he can’t resist sliding a pair of fingers inside first, stroking and curling them as he sucks on the side of his neck. “You _just_ got done singing my praises about how I take care of you,” he murmurs. “As if I could just shove it in and be done with it.” 

Leo’s knees buckle, but when he sags down, it just drives those fingers in deeper, making him ache, making him clutch at the tree, biting his lip until it stings. “Please, please, please, please--Izumi, my love, my _love_ , hurry up and be my bastard knight already, you take care of me _so good_ \--”

“I _am_ your bastard knight.” Izumi loops an arm around Leo’s waist, squeezing, pulling him back against him as his fingers stretch him wide, petting him from the inside out as he nuzzles into his neck. “And you’re my king,” he breathes, mouthing a wet kiss to Leo’s shoulder when he finally pulls his hand free, and grabs for his cock, easing it to that slick, twitching hole. “Keep your voice down, love,” he softly grunts, easing the head inside, and exhaling a long, satisfied breath against Leo’s skin when he slowly sinks into that achingly tight warmth. “T-there, see? I’m taking care of you, so just…ahh…be good and enjoy it…” 

Leo lets his head thunk forward against the tree, sucking in a breath as deeply as he can, eyes squeezed tight as he squirms back. “Izumi...my love...you’re so good...I’m, I love it, I love you, teach me the shape again, you’re--ahhh, it’s fun to play but you’re the only one who belongs in me and you _know_ it, don’t you? I feel--I feel good, right?”

He chokes on a breath, and whispers, so low no one else could possibly hear, “Y-your mare...needs her stallion...”

Izumi groans against Leo’s hair, thrusting forward _hard_ when Leo says that. His cock throbs, making his toes curl in his boots, and his arm tightens around Leo’s waist to pull him back against him as he grinds forward, sliding in deep and staying there. “You feel perfect,” he rasps, dragging his other hand up to Leo’s chest again, pulling, pinching those already sore nipples. “I belong in you, don’t I? Gods, you tighten up so _much_ when I play with these, you’re so…” 

“Stay in me forever, this is where you belong.”

Leo spreads his legs as wide as he can, grinding back happily, bracing himself on the tree to help him push back more, squeezing down as tightly as he can. “Hurts,” he groans, though his body language doesn’t say anything of the sort. “I can’t--I can’t come again so soon, but please--please come in me, _breed_ me--”

“You’re out of practice,” Izumi lowly teases, his voice rumbling as he thrusts in hard, his breath ragged when his vision blurs at the edges. Leo is so tight, so _hot_ around him that it hardly seems fair, and he takes his time, savoring how good it feels to fuck him after what feels like _forever_. He buries his face into Leo’s hair, inhaling slowly. “Next time I get you on a soft bed,” he breathes, “or bent over a bale of hay…I’ll make you come three…four times…gods, you’ll be begging for it even more, because it’s all—ahh—you need to think about—just feeling good—“

He comes with a low, ragged groan, shoving in as deep as he can, the sticky slap of skin together making his eyes squeeze shut as he spills deep inside. Izumi shudders, burying his face into Leo’s neck, squeezing him around he waist to make sure he stays buried inside. “Maybe…this time…finally…it’ll take,” he says, dazedly amused. 

“I wish,” Leo pants out, clinging to the tree with every last ounce of strength he has. “God, I wish. I wish, I wish I could give you that. You’ve given me...so much...”

“Our kids would be so beautiful,” Izumi sighs, nuzzling into Leo’s hair, steadying him with his own shaky hands as he slowly pulls out, grimacing as he does. “Ahh, that stings,” he mutters, making a face at the mess and hastily searching in his pockets for a handkerchief. “This is your fault, I hope you know. I was fine with just getting you off, but here we are—“

“Clean me up, I’m stinging _and_ I’m messy,” Leo complains, making an expression of distaste at the sticky drip down his thigh. “Ahh, I can’t wait until you’re truly my bastard knight. I’m going to knight you the second I get onto the throne, I’ll be the first king to have a squire knight.”

“Good, you’ve come around to that idea, too,” Izumi grouses, finally locating his handkerchief—dirty already, but who the hell cares when he’s wiping up more of a mess? He yanks up his own breeches and catches the drip down Leo’s thigh before it gets too far, wiping up the sticky mess in short order. “Ah, but you don’t need me to heal you up, do you? You _like_ the way it feels, riding all day when you’re all sore…” 

Leo turns around sticking his tongue out. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, but grabs Izumi by the collar, yanking him close for a kiss. His hand moves up, resting gently on Izumi’s cheek, hoping to put some of his feelings into that soft touch.

Izumi exhales a soft breath against Leo’s mouth, and slides his fingers back through his hair, tugging him forward into a slow, lingering kiss. So help him, he can’t help but extend a vague, healing touch that slithers down Leo’s spine. It’s nice in theory to think that Leo likes being sore, but…in reality, it’s less convenient, and more worrisome to think about. “Sorry,” he wryly says, pulling back. “I’ll have a hard time watching you wince all day. It’s a long ride.” 

Leo huffs, but winks, and yanks his breeches on properly, tying them securely. “I’ll probably be grateful for it in a few hours. But that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it now.” 

He butts his head against Izumi’s hand. “I really thought you hated me, you know. That we were over. I’d do honestly anything to fix what I messed up.”

Izumi leans back, pulling his hand away after a last ruffle of Leo’s hair to finish tying his own breeches, glancing down as he does. “There’s no way I could hate you,” he murmurs. “But I really appreciate you proving my mother wrong. You…ugh, this is going to sound so fucking lame,” he mutters, folding his arms irritably across his chest. “So I don’t even want to say it. Whatever. I’m over it. Just—next time someone tortures me and you think twice about avenging my ass, I’m going to punch you, and I think that’s fair.”

“Totally fair,” Leo agrees, and grabs Izumi’s hand, bringing it to his face. “You can slap me now,” he says earnestly. “I wouldn’t mind. I deserve it, I was a weak, foolish, selfish prince that forgot what was important.”

Izumi pauses, looks at him, and draws his hand back before slapping Leo across the face with a resounding _crack_ of skin against skin. 

“‘Bout damn time,” Mika sleepily says, padding his way past them, blankets dragging behind him. “Mornin’, y’all were noiiisy.” 

“Sorry—sorry, I mean, you did ask for it, and I do think you deserved it, I didn’t split your lip, did I?”

“You did,” Leo says cheerfully. He wipes his face, looking at the trickle of blood on his sleeve. “I totally deserved that. Don’t heal it until we reach civilization, I wanna wear it for a while.”

“Kinky,” Arashi says with a grin, buckling on the saddles to all of the horses. “Mika, _amaka_ , we’re going to have to step up our game if we want to be the naughty ones. Drop that blanket, give us all a morning show!”

Izumi exhales a low, stressed noise, and has to visibly force his hands not to grab for Leo and fix it immediately. 

“Thank the gods the weather’s warmin’ up, huh?” Mika hums, shucking his blankets in short order and lifting his hair off his back with a sigh as he stretches, unconcerned about being in the decidedly lacy underthings Shu makes for him and nothing more. 

“Excellency,” Tsukasa wearily says, cleaning up the evidence of their camp from the night before. “Please. Get dressed.” 

“Good, you two are _done_ ,” Natsume crossly mutters, returning from his river-soak, scrubbed clean and neatly dressed. “I want to leave, the water’s cold and it’s going to rain.” 

“It’s sunny right now,” Mika complains, unconcerned. 

“Not for _long._ ” 

“That’s cheerfully ominous enough to kick me into gear,” Arashi says with a sigh, and swings up onto Neigh’s back, tossing Mika the rest of his clothes. “Everyone ready to scram as quickly as possible?”

Leo swings onto Tempo, who dodges to the side away from Vale. “Stop it, that’s your husband. If I can’t make two male humans get married, I can certainly do it for animals.”

“Izumi, darling, you’re not going to let Vale cheat on Neigh, are you? How scandalous!”

“Vale’s into all kinds,” Izumi dismisses, hauling himself into the saddle and pulling Vale’s head up from immediately munching on every single bit of grass in the area. “He can’t be chained down.” 

Mika pouts his way through dressing, then pulls himself up onto his own horse with a sigh. “Why can’t I just ride into the West naked? _Kara_ , you better introduce me as your concubine from the South.” 

“See?” Leo demands, nudging Izumi’s knee with his own. “ _Someone_ wants me to legalize same-sex concubines.”

“Surely, a victory for the people,” Arashi says dryly. “Finally, the rights we deserve.”

Izumi heaves a sigh. “Honestly, Leo…” 

“It’s already legal in the South,” Mika deadpans, pushing his hair out of his face for a moment as he peers back at Leo. “Sorta.” 

“Darling, that’s prostitution you’re thinking of, not concubines.”

“I frankly do not know the difference,” Leo declares.

“Prostitutes serve everyone, concubines only one person? I’m getting that right, yes?”

“Ain’t it the same thing?” Mika complains. “You’re still a person with a contract and a patron. We only got one word for it in the South.” 

“Hear that, I can be your legal _prostitute_ ,” Izumi dryly says, leaning over to give Leo’s shoulder a pat. “Sounds like the opinion they all have of me, so why not?” 

“Y’know, it ain’t like it always has to be a bad thing,” Mika says. “Y’all are so conditioned to think it’s gross.”

“I’ve been to a number of brothels where it’s anything but gross,” Tsukasa cheerfully says. 

“You can only be my legal prostitute in the _South_ ,” Leo corrects. “They’re exempt by way of regional rulings, ratified by-- _hey!_ You can totally pass a bunch of ordinances in the North, we can get married and be concubines or whatever there!”

“I was married to a man for five years,” Natsume stiffly says, looking more and more uncomfortable as time goes on. 

“That was definitely fake,” Izumi dismisses, waving a hand. “Sorry, don’t pout at me, it was, you’re a woman on paper. And Kasa, your opinion’s not valid here, you’re _actually_ as straight as an arrow.” 

“Yeah, see, Your Highness…thing is, in the South, there’s gotta be money exchanged, or nothin’s exempt,” Mika dryly points out. “So I guess if you wanna keep buyin’ the snake here every time he puts his big ol’ stallion cock in you—“

“Listen here, whelp—“ 

Mika shrugs carelessly. “It’s true, though. If it ain’t legal in the capital, it’s not legal, that’s the way it is and we all know it. You’re makin’ me and _kara_ here feel way less valid—and yourself, I’ll bet. You’ve never been in a woman, I can tell.” 

“I don’t feel less valid, actually,” Arashi objects. “I never felt the need to be legally validated in the first place, so this isn’t exactly a change. _Amaka_ , you’re the only one here that isn’t going to need to marry and reproduce someday to carry on a name or title.”

Mika shrugs. “All the more reason I should be able to marry you if I want to.” 

“Wizards are sterile,” Natsume idly pipes up. “Maybe that means it makes _more_ sense for us to be able to marry other men…” 

Izumi stares upward at the sky that definitely doesn’t look like it’s going to rain any time soon. “The insinuation I’ll ever get married if it’s not to Leo is comical at best,” he says. “Which is unlikely to happen, so whatever. Arashi, you can have one of my kids, they’re all nobleborn, isn’t that nice.” 

“Did you just offer me one of your daughters as a wife?” Arashi asks, scandalized. “Aren’t they, like, babies? I mean, not that they wouldn’t be gorgeous, but in a baby-way, right?”

“I think he meant as a child to adopt,” Leo says sagely. “I mean, I think. Izumi’s hard to read.”

“What Leo said! Though now that I’m thinking about it, that would actually be a good match,” Izumi mutters, tilting his head to the side. “The eldest one is two, turning three—Natsume, how much older is Tsumugi than you?” 

“…A little over 20 years.”

“Then this is completely valid. _And_ you have an excuse for about sixteen years as to why you don’t have an heir yet.” 

Arashi makes a face. “Is this is what being a noble is like?” he demands of Tsukasa. “Men talking about the sex their baby daughters are going to have in sixteen years?”

“Seems legitimate to me,” Leo admits. “You’ve been a noble how long?”

“Ah, about three years...does it show?”

“You’re still squeamish. It’s kinda cute!”

“I had to have a lot of conversations about the prince’s little sister, for example—please don’t hit me,” Tsukasa quickly adds, making sure to keep Fianna a solid step away from Leo and his horse. “This is all _very_ par for the course, Captain.” 

“Oh, yeah, you’re still engaged to her, aren’t you?” Izumi laughs. “How’s that going to hold up, I wonder…”

“It’s a tragedy,” Tsukasa sadly says. “While it’s a very good match politically, I’m really not to her taste, and she’s not to mine…” 

“I was talking about how the crown is going to deal with this, but all right, sure, we can talk about taste, if you want Leo to kick the shit out of you. What kind of taste does the princess have, though? You’re handsome.” 

Tsukasa pauses, then looks at Izumi, then shakes his head, looking straight ahead. 

“My little _baby_ sister,” Leo says dangerously, creeping up behind Izumi, “does not have _taste_. She likes dolls and hair and blowing things up like a proper child! Ah, all the stuff we’re talking about totally doesn’t apply to my little sister. Everyone else’s little sisters and daughters, fine, but not my Ruka.”

“If my older brother was that protective, I’d hit him with a sword,” Arashi says frankly. “Oi, who else here has siblings? Me and the Prince can’t be the only ones to know this hell.”

Tsukasa blinks. “Um—did you say ‘blowing things up’, Your Highness?” 

“Ignore him, he’s ridiculous,” Izumi says with a wave of his hand. “Only child here.”

“Same,” Natsume chimes in.

“My mom woulda killed herself if she had more of me,” Mika cheerfully says.

“An only son here as well,” Tsukasa says, giving Arashi a sympathetic look. “I believe you are also the only _younger_ sibling, Captain.” 

“Mm, no wonder I’m the only one who can keep all of you brats in line, wahahaha!” Leo laughs so hard he nearly falls out of his saddle, and has to grab the pommel to get back in.

“More like I’m the only one who knows how to suffer for so long without lashing out,” Arashi says with a sigh. “You’re all used to getting your way, that’s what being your parents’ firstborn does. That’s why I’m high-achieving and you’re all no better than your parents.”

“But my father was the king! I have nowhere to go!”

“Hmm, sounds like a personal problem.”

“My mother is the sovereign in the North,” Izumi lowly says. “Tell me again how she and I aren’t high-achieving, you—“ 

“I’m marrying a princess,” Tsukasa mildly points out. “That’s rising in society no matter how you look at it, so your argument is a little…”

Mika shrugs. “ _Kara’s_ right about me,” he cheerfully says. “But I ain’t ever thought about bein’ high-achievin’, soo…” 

“Come here and tell me again how you think you’re sooo high-achieving, you pompous skank, you can’t even _fake it_ around a woman.” 

“Listen, you idiots, my mother is a _washerwoman_ , and I’m the lord of an entire dominance! That’s way more impressive a rise than nobleman to slightly-closer-to-the-King-nobleman--or from son of the sovereign in the North to, um, still the son of the sovereign in the North?” Arashi demands with a huff. “What does being able to fake a hard cock around a woman have to do with that?”

“Your dominance means nothing if your name can’t continue to possess it,” Tsukasa says, a sympathetic shake of his head following. “That’s what it has to do with it. You’re young, Captain, but you’re approaching too old not to have a betrothed. Izumi and I are at about the right age—for example, the only reason it was excusable for Izumi to not have a match up until this point…well, before this _mess_ all occurred…is because his _mother_ turned down every possibility—“

“She’s picky, thank the gods.”

“And because the capital was furious for years that he wasn’t a girl.” 

“All right, now I’m going to hit you.” 

“It _would_ be nice if you were a girl,” Arashi says wistfully. “I’d marry the shit out of you. We could be a total power couple. And it’s a good match, I’ve got the money and you’ve got the name. If you had any _legitimate_ daughters, I’d marry one in a heartbeat. I’m sure I could make it work, I’ll have like a decade to figure it out, right?”

“Izumi is gonna have to marry Dayton,” Leo teases.

“I’m—you shut up, I’m not marrying some ugly, hairy Northerner,” Izumi crossly says. He sighs, shutting his eyes. “ _Honestly_ , If I was a good man and a proper noble, I’d marry one of the mothers of my children…you know, after I slaughter their husbands. Lady Karn is dead, but the other two…well, of course they’re beautiful, that’s a plus…anyway, the important thing is that then the kids would be legitimate, and you could marry one,” he says, grinning as he reaches over to tug on a strand of Arashi’s hair. “At least you know they’re lovely, and can’t _not_ have my sharp wit that you so enjoy, it’s an inherited trait.” 

“If Izumi hadn’t been such a terrible rake, there was talk of him marrying the princess,” Tsukasa wryly says. “But _then_ —“

“Yes, yes, then I flirted with the queen, and the king decided this was no longer an appropriate idea. Tell me again how much better everyone’s lives would be if I were a woman.” 

“You know,” Leo says, as conversationally as he can manage, “if we pull this all off and I become king after all, Izumi can marry my sister, and Tsukasa can marry his curvy widow. Ah, wait, no, that doesn’t work for--”

“Me,” Arashi puts in, eyebrows raised. “I mean, I’ve got some options, I’ve just been avoiding it as long as I can because I honestly do not want to. And I’m in love, what kind of woman wants a life without love and good sex?”

“Women who want money and status,” Tsukasa says without skipping a beat.

“Trust me, there are a lot of women that would marry you and be perfectly content with a loveless marriage that barely involves them spreading their legs,” Izumi dryly says, patting Arashi’s back. “You’re handsome, you’re not…too _awful,_ I suppose—“

“And you have money,” Tsukasa bluntly reiterates. 

“You’re the most eligible bachelor here, almost! Also, I’m never marrying your sister, Leo.” 

“Did you seriously say that he’s a more eligible bachelor than me?” Leo demands, kicking Izumi’s ankle. “I’m the prince!”

“Yeah, but a woman who marries me gets money and status and a fancy house,” Arashi points out, sitting up a little straighter. “A woman who marries you has to be a queen.”

“ _Gets_ to,” Leo corrects. “She _gets_ to be the queen.”

“Okay, show of hands, who here would rather be rich with no responsibilities, and who would rather be the queen?”

Every single hand rises, some more slowly than others. “Sorry, Your Highness,” Tsukasa apologizes.

“He’s also a more eligible bachelor than you, brat, because he doesn’t have such a girlish figure,” Izumi snidely teases, leaning out of his saddle to pinch Leo’s side. “Typical women like men like him and Kasa more, it’s just how it is. Between the two of them, they’ve got the ‘rich with no responsibilities and married to a tall, handsome, charming man’ appeal covered in every direction.” 

“I quit being the prince, you can all get yourselves exploded without me,” Leo says with a scowl, folding his arms. “This is totally unfair, I’m the _world’s_ most eligible bachelor--I still say every little girl wants to grow up to marry a prince. There are _storybooks_ about growing up to marry specifically me!”

“And yet you’re unbetrothed,” Arashi points out. “So who’s the real winner?”

“Me,” Izumi sweetly says. “He’s unbetrothed, ready to be thrown over my horse like a burlap sack and taken to the North.”

Leo reaches over and pokes Izumi’s shoulder. “I hope that pith is going to serve you well against my father’s Captain of the Kingsguard. He’s very good, you know.”

Arashi perks up. “Wait, there’s a champion swordfight happening and no one told me about it?”

Izumi grimaces, brushing Leo’s hand away. “Because it’s not happening yet. We’re heading West, and I’m dealing with that when we get back to the capital, assuming the Demon King hasn’t blown it up.” 

“Wait…against the Captain of the Kingsguard?” Mika’s head tilts. “That’s Master’s friend. He’s scary.”

“He’s all right,” Izumi mutters. “Honestly, the only thing I’m worried about is—“

“The fact he’s a half-blood?”

“I was _going_ to say the fact that I absolutely slept with his wife. But sure, thanks, birdbrain, give me another concern that I was unaware of.”

“Apparently, he and I have a common ancestor,” Arashi says with a wave of his hand. “Sounds fake to me, but darling Mika can apparently see these things, and he swears to it.”

“Izumi--we can’t go West _now_ ,” Leo protests. “I thought we were splitting with them when we got to the Crossing of Three Spears, they’ll go West and you and I will go to the Capital. Captain Arashi is more than capable of protecting them, don’t you think?”

“We never, ever discussed that,” Izumi wearily says, staring skyward—and then blinking when an enormous droplet of rain smacks right into his face. “What the fuck, it is absolutely still sunny out,” he growls, wiping it off.

“I can go with the two of you back to the capital, if you need an escort,” Tsukasa offers. “The Captain can keep going with the wizards and secure the West.” 

“Absolutely not,” Leo says, sounding suddenly firm. “If you’re in the Capital, you’re an easy tool for them to use against me. If you’re somewhere mysterious, you could be dead, for all they know, and they’ll think twice before getting rid of the heir in the hand, so to speak.”

Tsukasa pauses, then turns in his saddle to look at Leo. “Your Highness, my family has already threatened to pull out all of their funding if anything happens to me. With Izumi’s mother starving out the entire capital, the crown can’t afford to let that happen right now.” 

“Money talks, as always,” Izumi mutters, shifting restlessly. 

“Yes, it does. The point of this being—your father has to be very nice to me right now, or else. Neither my family or I have ever been a tool for the crown to use, and that’s not going to change now.” 

Leo rolls his eyes. “You’re not understanding me. I’m _saying_ , if I show up and have a bunch of armies and wizards and shit at my command and _you’re there_ , they might still decide to kill me quietly. But if you’re ‘missing’ or whatever, Father’s ministers and attendants might decide it’s in his best interests to step down in accordance with the law--don’t make me talk smart in the morning, it makes me angry!”

Tsukasa’s lips purse. “Theoretically,” he agrees carefully. “Though I worry about the Emperor reporting to them about my whereabouts. Or more specifically, Himemiya.” 

Mika makes a face. “That little shit was at High Harbor—the Emperor drags him everywhere.” 

“So he might have seen me, and therefore, I’m not missing at all.” Tsukasa shrugs. “If you’d like me to stay with the Captain instead, Your Highness, I will. I’m just not sure what is more helpful to you right now.” 

Leo throws up his hands. “I’m a prince, not a strategist,” he admits. “There’s a whole lot I don’t know. I didn’t know Father would drag up that weapon, I don’t know for sure that he’ll use it, I don’t know if he really wants to or if his advisors have just convinced him that he’s been perceived as a weak king for too long--I honestly don’t know. All I can do is just, is _try_ something, right? So I’m trying the Quorum, if Izumi is brave enough to face the Captain of the Kingsguard.”

“Fuck you,” Izumi says cheerfully, though _not_ very nicely. “It’s not a matter of bravery, stop fucking saying that, I already told you I’d do it.” 

As he says that, the sky opens up. Natsume and Mika don’t as much as flinch, already having their cloaks pulled up over their heads like they _genuinely_ expected this to happen on a bright, sunny day. Izumi curses, and Tsukasa heaves a long sigh, adjusting his own cloak to pull it over his head as his mare bolts moodily ahead. “I told you last night that we needed to leave as soon as possible,” Natsume mildly says.

“I thought you were talking about getting away from that magical weapon,” Arashi says, wriggling out of his coat and tossing it over his own head. “Ahh, my hair is going to look _terrible_ , can we please find a nice inn to shelter in?”

Leo shifts closer to Izumi, eyes looking big and sad. “You have a nice cloak,” he says, very seriously. “While your prince has a cloak that is tragically full of holes from being slept in on the ground quite a bit recently. And you _love_ your prince.”

Natsume blinks at Arashi with large, golden eyes. “The magical weapon doesn’t matter,” he says, as if that’s a surefire fact. “I just wanted to stay out of the rain. And away from whatever Lord Rei does.”

Mika sighs dreamily. “You’re th’ best combination of creepy and cute I’ve seen since a snog.” 

Izumi unfastens his cloak, and unceremoniously dumps it over Leo’s head. “I’m going to ride ahead and see if there’s _anything_ on this damned road,” he says, and Vale bolts ahead, leaving them all behind in short order. 

“Cranky,” Mika remarks, sidling his horse closer to Arashi. “It’s okay, _kara_. I like it when you’re wet.” 

Arashi pouts miserably, tying the arms of his jacket under his chin. “We get so much terrible weather in the Sharps, but it’s been so _mild_ in High Harbor, I almost forgot about it. Ugh, I’m sick of thinking about marriages,” he admits, holding out his hand for Mika’s. “You’re the only one I want to get old with.”

“I know,” Mika says without batting an eye, reaching out to take Arashi’s hand with an easy squeeze, watching the rain splatter fat and wet over their skin. “That’s why it doesn’t matter. I’ll just invent magic where I can get pregnant or somethin’. Nnn, let me ride with you, we can share my cloak, they’re mostly water resistant! Which I thought was a weird thing to need, when I was younger, ‘cause it never rains in the Sandlands…” 

Arashi hesitates for only a moment before leaning to the side, lifting Mika from his saddle and settling him in front of him on Neigh’s saddle, tucking his arms around him. “You’re so little. You’ve got to promise me you’re going to eat more the next time we get to shelter, I saw you drop those rolls under the table at the last Inn.”

Mika loops his horse’s reins into a ring on Arashi’s saddle, then readjusts his cloak, sweeping it around and over Arashi and snuggling back into his chest to remain mostly underneath it as well. “I don’t want to get fat,” he complains. “Or grow too much. I’ll get ugly, no thanks.” 

“ _Amaka_ , you really need to understand that you’re not in the Sandlands anymore. I don’t care what size you are, you know?” Arashi gives Mika a squeeze around the middle. “You don’t need to be tiny to be cute. I’m not tiny, and I’m cute, right?”

Mika sticks out his tongue when he’s squeezed. “Nnn, yeah, but you’re special.” 

There’s a flash of light in the distance, muffled somewhat by the high, rolling hills of the approaching Sharps. “Lightning?” Tsukasa murmurs, warily reining Fianna in when she snorts, restless and unhappy. 

“No, that’s magic,” Mika murmurs, his brow furrowing. “Ah…I wish I could’ve seen it better. It almost felt like…no, nn, that doesn’t make sense.” 

“Feels like what?” Arashi asks with a frown. “A kind of magic you recognize? Is that it?”

“Yeah.” Mika hesitates. “Like the Demon King.” 

“He’s at the Academy,” Natsume insists. 

“Yeah, I know he is. That’s why it’s weird.” 

“Wherever he is,” Leo says quietly, looking up at the sky through fat raindrops, “I hope he knows what the hell he’s doing.”


	42. Chapter 42

The Emperor has never been pleasant company, least of all when he’s angry about something. 

Rei has been able to tolerate him on occasion, but every conversation has always ended up as an argument. He remembers that, from years past, and he remembers it now, forced to drink tea with him when he would much rather sleep. 

“This is all your fault, you know,” Eichi tells him blithely. “None of this would be happening if you would just agree to work with me.” 

“You’re probably right,” Rei agrees, because Eichi hates it when he agrees with him even more than when he argues with him. “How goes it, rebuilding Wataru’s wings?” 

Eichi’s response is silence, and Rei wonders if he feels worse about that comment than Eichi does, because he’s more capable of proper empathy than this monster any day. 

Above all, it doesn’t matter that the Emperor is unpleasant company. It matters that he’s distracted, more than every, by Wataru, by the prince, by any number of issues within his ranks. The wizards within the Academy start to talk. They don’t know that he’s there, explicitly, but they’ve heard news of him all the same—and, well, there’s a sense of innate dread that he supposes his kind of magic brings. A trained Nightcloak’s presence has weight to magic users, no matter how sealed or controlled their magic may be, and Rei lingers in his little room overlooking the garden, watching his seal wither away at the seams. _Just another week._

Until he hears from Koga.

_Ready,_ is the quiet press at the corner of his mind, all the way from the Sandlands. It’s another two days before he hears from Kaoru, in High Harbor— _ready_ —and Hokuto, having traveled far West. _Ready._

Finally, on the very edges of the Shadowlands, then further slithering into them, his twins gently call back. _Ready_. 

Rei casually steps out of his open window and jumps out into the garden, nestling down into a magnolia bush contently. _Go on, then._

It’s peculiar, feeling bits and pieces of his soul flare off in different places. They’re just extra and duplicates, Rei supposes, but it’s still _strange._ The West is first. He can hear the yells within the Academy halls, and first comes the opening and slamming of his own bedroom door, shouts of wizard guards carrying through the halls. He idly slinks deeper down into his bush. Well, his seals have lasted this long. The bits of his soul he’d passed off to his retainers are convincing, feeling as if he’s simply teleported to those places as a matter of taunting the Emperor…which, he imagines, sounds about par for the course right now. 

But Rei waits, holding his breath as he hears the Emperor himself stalk through his bedroom, cold, white fury seeping off of him in waves. “That’s enough,” he hears Eichi lowly, angrily say. “I’ll hunt you myself.”

He leaves, shattering no less than three decorative tea cups, and Rei slowly pries himself out of the bushes when he hears the bells start to toll. He grasps for Shu, then, pulling on their bond, holding tight to it with a shaky sigh. _Come here, love._

The first time Shu felt Rei tug on his soul, he’d thought he was dying. That, he’s learned in the years since, is because he’d resisted it. This time, as he rides hard, less than a day from the Academy, he understands. He slides off his horse, slapping it on the rump, letting him gallop away, and closes his eyes. He draws on his own power, finds Rei with his power, and aids in that tug. _I’m coming, my lord._

Then he lets the power _pull_ him. For a heartbeat, there’s nothing but empty, screamingly cold space, and the sense of being out of his body, out of the world completely. Then, he opens his eyes, no more than a blink passing, and finds himself inside a bush, gasping for breath, tumbling against Rei’s chest. “That’s so distracting,” he scolds, clinging to his chest, bones gone weak. “I was no more than a few hours away. You couldn’t have waited?”

“Nope,” Rei cheerfully says, leaning back and simply letting Shu flop against him for a moment as he pets a hand down his back. “Hear those bells tolling? The hunters are out. I couldn’t risk it.” 

“Then take me now. Before they find out your decoys are just that.” Shu twines his arms around Rei’s neck, the hunger in his eyes flaring, something kept tamed for so long he had almost forgotten that his body had the capability.

“That’s the plan.”

Rei rolls them out of the bush and onto the ground proper, where it’s nothing but moist grass and earth as he presses Shu down, mouthing a hungry kiss to his throat. “We have some time,” he murmurs, his eyes lidded, glittering dark red behind his lashes. “The Emperor is still headed West. Then he’ll be headed to the South, then to High Harbor, then to the Shadowlands before he figures out that I’m playing with him.” 

“That’s a lot of talking you’re doing, my lord,” Shu grunts, and grabs for Rei’s trouser laces, finding them tied delightfully loose, shoving them down. He parts his own robes, revealing nothing but another loose robe underneath, which he swiftly parts as well, getting his legs around Rei’s waist. “I’m taking no chances. Please, my lord, take me, I won’t be whole until you do.”

“You aren’t even the slightest bit afraid, are you?” Rei gasps, the overwhelming sensation of being skin to skin with Shu muddling his mind. Touching him is one thing, kissing him another, anything sexual something else, but this—this makes him _hungry_ , and his cock already aches just from Shu’s grabbing, eager hands. He slides up between those splayed thighs, his hands dragging down Shu’s ribs, squeezing around his waist as his cock throbs, rubbing against the soft skin of a thigh. “Chances be damned, I’m _going_ to enjoy you,” he mutters, ripping a pouch from his belt to pry out the oil he’s stashed inside. “You’re too precious not to be taken care of. Look at you, you look lovely even with mud all in your hair.” 

“If you love me, please don’t ever mention mud in my hair again,” Shu gasps, squeezing his eyes shut, running his hands up the smooth taut skin of Rei’s back, then back down with his nails, panting already from how Rei feels between his thighs, from the idea that Rei will soon be _inside_ him. He feels the power start to tug and swirl around him, the way it always does when they start to get intimate, but this time, he lets his own seal dissolve, opening himself up fully. “Take it off,” he urges, hands sliding down to squeeze at Rei’s ass. “Let me feel you in every way...”

Shu might not act like he’s afraid, but gods, if Rei’s pulse isn’t pounding in his own ears. His magic feels ready to burst, already seeping at the edges of the seal that they’ve both been cultivating for years, and Rei shudders, his head thunking down against Shu’s shoulder, feeling sweat drip down from his hairline already. “Help me,” he whispers, his eyes fluttering. His cock twitches against Shu’s thigh, but he stills his hands for a moment, feeling them tremble far too much.“I’m…afraid if I do it…everything will just…that it’ll be far too noticeable.” 

For a moment, it’s too easy to imagine Eichi finding them--swooping back the second he pops the seal, putting them both in reeducation, baring every private, precious part of them for everyone to mock and humiliate--

No. His plan is good, it’s sound, that won’t happen again, I’d rather die.

_Shu lunges up, kissing Rei hard, hands in his hair, fingers coming to rest at his temples. One sliver of subtle magic--he wavers--he pushes, summoning his courage, and the seal dissolves as if it had never been, freeing the raw power of Rei’s magic wash over him, stark in its intensity. He gasps, hands clutching, overwhelmed by the sheer power, and groans under Rei’s hands, a trembling, twitching thing. “Hurry,” he half-pleads, half-orders, feeling how eager Rei is against his thigh, desperate for more. “Don’t let it end here, please--”_

There’s a moment where Rei pauses, shutting his eyes. After so long, being free—feeling nothing _but_ the way his magic interacts with the world, with Shu, wrapping around and through him, twisting up until their power seems to meld together, fused at every single intersection—it’s so much. It’s _too_ much. 

But Shu is grabbing at him, panting in his ear, pleading against his skin, and there’s no time. 

Rei lurches down, seizing Shu’s mouth with his own, kissing him long and hard and deep, sucking on his tongue as he fumbles with the bottle of oil in his grasp. It spills over his cock, over Shu’s thighs, close _enough_ , and he grabs Shu’s hips, pulling him where he wants him, slinging one of those long legs over his shoulder as he pants against his soft, sweet mouth. “I won’t let it end,” he promises, and he pulls a dagger from his hip, burying it into the wet earth next to Shu’s head for safekeeping, just in _case_. 

Then he presses forward, guiding his cock inside, and his logical mind fizzles to a stop. 

The first, aching push forward is so tight, so slick around his cock that Rei feels the breath ripped from his lungs. He groans, low and hungry, unable to stop himself from shoving forward until he’s entirely buried inside, his nails biting into Shu’s hips, his fangs bared as he pants above Shu’s throat. There’s silence, suddenly, as if a wave has come down to crush their power flat to the bottom of the sea, drowning it, stifling it, but that’s almost a relief when finally being _inside_ feels so overwhelming, too intense and far too much.

The sudden vanishing of Shu’s powers leaves him gasping for air, eyes wide as he arches back, mind narrowed to nothing but the way Rei shoves slowly into him, spreading his trembling thighs as far as he can. Every breath feels like not enough, every thrust feels like too much, and he breathes, breathing into the tension, squeezing down because it feels achingly good. “My lord,” he murmurs, slurring the words a little, everything too much, too tight, too tense, and he simply breathes, eyes rolling back into his head. “Ahhh, my lord, my _lord_ \--”

It feels nothing like being sealed, so much as it does being empty--and at the same time, beautifully, brutally _filled_. He licks his lips, and grabs at Rei’s hair, feeling it spill around him as he lets his head roll to the side, presenting his neck. “All of me...is yours...”

Rei shudders, catching himself before he bites out of sheer reflex, and instead, he sucks in a slow, ragged breath through his nose, following the pull on his hair and sucking on the side of Shu’s neck, his tongue dragging over the sweat-slick skin as if he’s priming it for his bite. “You’re mine,” Rei agrees on a rumbling groan, sliding his knees closer, the rock of his hips insistent, but keeping his cock always buried deep, barely pulling out more than a few centimeters at a time. “Gods, but you’re mine…ahhh..the way you feel inside…” 

It’s the last thing he manages to say before he can’t help himself anymore, and he strikes, his fangs sinking in, biting down hard and drinking deeply. 

Shu’s entire body seizes, and his vision whites out, his body trembling from head to toe, convulsing in the throes of ecstasy as he cries out, unable to stop himself when the crescendo inside him finally reaches apex, shattering him into what feels like a thousand pieces, everything inside of him vanishing, transforming, ripping through him until he lays bonelessly on the ground, gasping at air as Rei strokes into him. “T-take what you need,” he exhales deeply, voice gone low, hungry. “As--as long as you want me, I’m yours, I love the way you feel, I--ahh, _gods_ \--”

Rei swallows hard, savoring the taste of Shu’s blood on his tongue, the heady, heavy taste of it that leaves him shivering even when he releases Shu’s throat. His lips are stained red from it, his tongue dragging out over them for a last, lingering taste. “You’re perfect,” he pants out, dragging a hand up Shu’s cheek, stroking through his hair as he pulls at Shu’s hips with his other hand, gentling him into a better position, groaning when that lets his cock slip in deeper, until their skin presses together and he can feel nothing but Shu twitching and shivering around him. “It’s so quiet,” Rei whispers, the sweaty ends of his hair sticking to Shu as he leans forward. “All I can hear is the way your pulse throbs—the way your breath sounds—“ 

“You’re in me,” Shu breathes, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He threads his fingers through Rei’s hair, pulling him down for a filthy kiss, tongue lashing, legs splayed artlessly on the ground. “Gods, I never thought it would feel like--this--”

A low, rumbling sound of approval leaves Rei’s throat, and he sucks on Shu’s tongue before tilting his head back to breathe in deep. “It fits in you…so well,” he sighs as he rocks back, unable to stop himself from gathering Shu up, pulling him forward to situate him in his lap instead. His hips rock up slowly, and Rei shudders, his nails dragging down Shu’s back as he steadies him. “Good, isn’t it? Gods, Shu, I’m never taking it out…” 

“Good,” Shu groans, arms draping around Rei’s neck, his entire body too-sensitive. It’s hard to get his legs under him, hard to find a place to kneel in the mud, but he manages, and laughs weakly. “We had--six years--to plan--and--ahh!--still wound up--kneeling--in the mud,” he gasps, rocking down onto Rei’s cock, enjoying it more for the sheer sensation of it and less for any sort of drive towards orgasm.

“I sort of like it that way,” Rei breathes, sucking on the side of Shu’s neck that isn’t bruised up from his biting, drawing more little marks to the surface of his skin. His hands drag down, curling around the curve of Shu’s ass, squeezing and kneading, tugging him to a better angle that makes him throb inside with a long, achy shiver. “You..mmn…look so _desperate_ like this…and you smell like the earth and like me…”

“Next time,” Shu pants, trying to raise up on his knees and drop back down, trying to move with Rei, a man in his own right, instead of just being bounced around like a sack of grain. “Next time, _just_ like you, not mud--but you’re so--much--”

He bites into Rei’s shoulder with a strangled groan, liquid spilling from his cock in a low trickle, nothing like the sudden spurts of before. It starts to ache and cramp, Rei in him feels _far_ too large, and his whimpers turn to whines, and yelps at each hard thrust. “M-my lord, it’s--it’s so m-much--”

“I know—I know, just—bear with it, I—“ 

Rei’s fingers leave bruises on Shu’s hips, unable to be gentle when his vision blurs at the edges. His cock throbs, too hard, everything too sensitive, and his ragged breathing reaches a fever pitch, burying his flushed face and lidded eyes into Shu’s shoulder. He tastes sweat underneath his tongue, and mud, and _Shu_ , and he frantically pulls Shu down with a muffled groan, shoving up hard, burying himself as deeply as he can when _too much_ tips him over the edge, bringing him to spill inside, the deep, aching satisfaction of that making him bite into Shu’s shoulder again—not drinking, just holding him in place.

All sounds other than Shu return in a rush, and Rei shudders down to his toes, sweaty, flushed skin tingling with the sudden swell of power underneath it. He breathes, and tasting Shu’s skin underneath his tongue makes him feel like he’s tasting sound itself, sweet and bright and enough to make him shove Shu onto his back again, eyes glittering a brilliant, bright red. “Gods, I want to eat you alive,” he breathes, licking at his fangs. “If I had the time…I’d have you until you couldn’t stand.” 

Shu blinks slowly, feeling power start to come creeping back into him. He sucks in a breath, feeling it course through his veins, and exhales, a little puff of violet fire, letting it fizzle into the air around him. “I thought...it would be...more bombastic,” he breathes, eyelids fluttering. “Your power.”

Rei slowly sits back, exhaling a long, shaky sigh. “I can be bombastic,” he murmurs, his eyes lidding. Absently, he leans back, his hand presses down into the muddy ground, and underneath his touch, countless weeds and flowers alike start to sprout, clawing their way to the surface in a dizzying array of green. “But…the moment I am…well, that means we’re done here. Do you want to watch me demolish Eichi’s studio?” 

“No,” Shu says honestly. “I want to hold you inside of me until we both die.” He presses a kiss to Rei’s cheek, feeling the power thrum inside him, and the growing plants make his heart race. “But I do _dearly_ want to watch you destroy everything he loves.”

The enormous, white tower that holds the Emperor’s study—and ultimately, most of his belongings—slowly starts to sink, as if the ground underneath it has completely given out, courtesy of the thick, racing vines that start to climb and cover it. “That’s a start,” Rei says, sounding relieved, and he slowly lifts Shu from his lap, trying not to vibrate with every single touch. “My apologies, love, you’re a bit of a mess. I’m not sure we have time to clean up before we leave this place.” 

“I can handle that much, at least--ahh, I feel very recharged, is that you, or just sex?” Shu straightens up, shaking himself out, and violet fire encases his entire body, purging him of filth as he murmurs a spell, one of his own creation. “Ah...very satisfying. Destroy every single one of his teacups, they’re hideous.”

“Both,” Rei brightly says, climbing to his feet and shaking himself off with a satisfied sigh. Uncaring of the mud, he dresses himself, and idly wiggles his toes, watching the bursting of green underneath them when he doesn’t focus enough. “I’ve never had _such_ a hard time keeping a grasp on it. I wonder, if we did it _again_ , what would happen…” 

“You!”

_Another word doesn’t leave Tori of the Himemiya house’s mouth before Rei simply lifts a hand, knocking him flat onto his back into the wet ground, pinning him there and silencing him with multiple, shifting layers of wisping shadow. “I have no interest in having you in the thick of this,” he says honestly, dropping his hand to Shu’s cheek instead. “But sending you away…mm, I think not. Would you like to go destroy a magical weapon with me, while the Academy crumbles to pieces and Eichi chases a ghost?”_

“That sounds delightful, my lord,” Shu says with a smile, taking Rei’s hand in his own and squeezing. He shakes out his cloak, letting it billow around him as he breathes in power. Violet power shimmers around his shoulders, settling into him, more with every breath. “Is it bad to say I dearly hope someone tries to stand in our way?”


	43. Chapter 43

Arashi blames the rain, and the darkness, and his own worry about Izumi.

It’s nothing, he claims, when they get to the gates of his stronghold, and finds it currently impassable because of trees. It happens, unfortunately, though he’s usually on the other side of it, ordering his men to clear the great logs as soon as the storms let up. It’s fine, because he knows another way--the main road, actually, which doesn’t go through his own holdings, but he knows it just as well, perhaps better.

But he blames the rain, and the darkness, and his own worry, for his forgetfulness. That’s surely the only reaction, when their soggy, exhausted group crests a hill and spots a cluster of welcoming lights, and his heart sinks. “Why don’t we stop here for the night?” he asks suddenly, gesturing to the pounding rain and the shadowy forest all around them. “Ooh, or better yet, we should keep going until morning! No use wasting time, eh?”

Natsume, by this point, is shivering like a cat left out in the rain for far too long—which he is, more or less. Mika opens his mouth, then shuts it again, frowning at Arashi openly, and Izumi’s tired, skeptical stare follows suit, but it’s Tsukasa who _says_ something. 

“There’s clearly a town right ahead, Captain,” he says, gesturing to the lights just beyond the hills. “Maybe a half hour ride. I’m sure there’s an inn there that we can stop at.”

“I don’t think so, hmm, no,” Arashi says, a bit agitated and too exhausted to hide it properly. “Looks like there’s no one there, we shouldn’t bother them--”

“I’m cold,” Natsume quietly says, trying not to let his teeth chatter, and failing.

“Hand over your coin, Kasa,” Izumi dismissively says, holding out his hand. “I’ll ride ahead and deal with it.” 

Tsukasa does just that, and Izumi is gone, leaving Mika to nudge back against Arashi’s chest where he rides in front of him, peering up at him with eyes that are dilated in the darkness. “Is it a bad place?” he quietly asks. “You can hide under my cloak and no one’ll know you.” 

“I don’t want to stop here,” Arashi mutters, hands clenched so tightly his knuckles turn white, jaw popping with tension. “I’ll sleep outside, it’ll--it’ll be best for everyone if I do, I’ll--I’ll meet you in the morning, yeah? I don’t hate the ground in the mud.”

Neigh whickers, turning her head to nose at his foot. 

“Stop it, you dumb horse,” he mutters distractedly. “I’m fine, don’t check on me.”

Mika hesitates, reaching down to curl his fingers over one of Arashi’s hands. “Inns usually have a back door, right? If y’don’t want anyone to see you, I’ll sneak in with you that way. And we don’t have t’leave the room ‘till morning.” 

“His Excellency is right, Captain,” Tsukasa quietly butts in, pulling his horse up next to Arashi’s. “You grew up somewhere near here, I’m guessing? I can understand not wanting to see those people again—we’ll make sure no one catches sight of you. It would cause too much of a scene, anyway.” 

Arashi’s face twists into something very uncharacteristic, and he shakes out his hair, trying to ignore the twisting, cold pit in his stomach. “It’s fine. They’d never let you come in through the back door. I’m being a coward, sorry.” His voice is gruffer, lower than usual, and the lines around his eyes are tense and unhappy. “Go on, Tsukasa. Meet up with Izumi. We’ll be there in a moment.”

Tsukasa frowns, then nods, waving for Natsume and Leo alike to follow. Mika waits for them to leave before he turns his head into Arashi’s neck, nudging him there gently. “We don’t have t’go,” he says. “I’ll stay out here with you. If it’s that bad, then I don’t wanna stay there, either.” 

“It’s not bad. I’m being a baby.” Arashi sucks in a breath through his nose, deliberately unclenching his hands. “It’s fine. I just forgot, wasn’t expecting it. I wasn’t watching where we were going.”

He takes a breath, then points ahead of them, to one particular winking light. “That’s the house I grew up in,” he says quietly. “Across the street from the Inn. There are only about twenty families in the whole town.”

“Oh. Whoa.” Mika leans back, grimacing. “That’s a real small town. Kinda like the slum I grew up in…not that this is a slum or anything,” he hastily adds. “Jus’…small like that. Mm, I don’t think you’re bein’ a baby. If y’don’t wanna see those people, I get it. I wouldn’t wanna see anyone I grew up with, either.” 

“There isn’t anywhere else to stop, though,” Arashi admits. He wraps his arms around Mika, squeezes, then says with great hesitation, “You should...ride in on your own horse.”

Mika pauses, then nods, unclasping his cloak to leave it draped around Arashi before he turns, stealing a kiss, and scampers over onto his own horse’s back once more. “I still think we should try goin’ through the back door,” he says. “Or sleep with the horses, even.” 

“If I get caught like that, it’ll be ridiculous, though. I’m their _lord_ , you know? I can’t get caught snooping. And the stableboy...gods, it’s probably the son of one of the stableboys I grew up with by now, I haven’t been back for almost a decade.”

Mika sticks his tongue out in distaste, but eventually nudges his horse forward. “Izumi’ll help,” he simply says. “He’s good at takin’ the attention away from everyone, and he’s kinda telepathic with you, so he’ll get it. I…I wish I knew what to do, _kara_ , but the only idea I’ve got is hidin’, sorry.” 

“It’s all right. Keep back in the shadows, it’ll make you happiest, and then I won’t have to deal with keeping you away from everyone’s prying comments.” Arashi grimaces. “Fair warning...there’s a non-zero chance that someone from my family will be in there. Pop used to drink there after work, and Ma used to pick up shifts as a barmaid, but they’re a lot older now. My brother’s probably old enough, unless he’s left town.”

“Definitely gonna hide,” Mika admits, shaking his head. “Family things are scary. Hey, I’m still game to sleep in the mud, I mean it.” 

“It’s fine, _amaka_. Like I said, I’m just being a baby.” 

The sound of hoofbeats changes as Neigh steps onto a more packed road, and Arashi swings off his saddle, taking the reins in one hand as they approach the stables. He whistles for a stableboy, keeping his face out of the light, and flips the boy a coin. “For both of them. We’ll be leaving in the morning.”

Mika resists the reflex he’s cultivated to immediately cling to Arashi’s arm, or at least the back of his jacket, once he’s on the ground. The stableboy catches the coin, eyes wide as if he’s never seen this much money in his life, and he takes the horses’ reins with a short bow. “Thank you, Milord, I—“ He squints in the dim light, looking searching at Arashi’s face. Recognition is clearly on the tip of his tongue before a hand swats down across the back of his head. 

“Move along, haven’t you ever cared for a noble’s horses?” Izumi scolds. “Get them out of the rain, they’re worth more than you’ll see in a year! Honestly, after I already paid you for the others as well…”

“Y-yes, Milord, my apologies, Milord—“ The boy scrambles to do as he’s told, and Izumi sighs.

“Only two rooms left in this entire shitty town, so I got both, which each have one bed, and we’re all gonna be crammed in there and be _very_ cuddly tonight, I suppose.” He wipes a silver curl of hair out of his face, hands on his hips as he stares up at Arashi, soaking wet and world-weary. “This the place?” he adds casually. “Took two seconds and I heard some familiar names.” 

Arashi grunts, shoulders squaring, drawing up to his full height, readjusting his center of gravity. It’s been quite a while since he’s been in company, but the way he shifts his stance is old hat. He’s done it since he was old enough to stand ay way, let alone since he was old enough to be told to ‘stand like a real man.’ “Not tonight,” he says quietly, without meeting Izumi’s eyes. “Don’t cause trouble, there’s nowhere else to go.”

“Fair enough. I’ll circle back tomorrow, then.” Izumi smiles too-sweetly. “Want an excuse to retire early, or do you have one already? Natsume’s acting like he’s as sick as a dog, and passed out the second he hit the bed. Keeping watch over your priceless wizards sounds convincing to me.” 

“Milord?” A young woman with golden hair bobs a curtsy, looking nervous, casting a glance between Arashi and Izumi. “You’re--ah, begging your pardon, but how many of you’ll be needing bedwarmers tonight? I’ve got five girls on staff, none of ‘em poxed, and two more I can send for if...”

She trails off, narrowing her eyes as she looks at Arashi. Then they widen, and she sinks into a much deeper curtsy. “Oh! Milord--that is, my lord, your Grace!”

“Please, you don’t need to--”

“What’s that I hear?” A deep voice comes from behind Arashi, just before a meaty hand claps him on the back so hard that most folk would go flying. He barely flinches. “It can’t be--Sara and Ogram’s boy, sure’s shit!”

It’s too late to ask the man to keep his voice down. The whole Inn has heard by now, the tavern room erupting into flurries of movement, all eyes on him, and Arashi bites down a grimace, turning to punch the man in the shoulder. “Hyde, you old bastard,” he says, in a voice unlike any most of his friends have ever heard him use. “Trude’s still giving you the time of day, or she make you live here now? Peh, you stink of lyme, even in this rain!”

Mika looks ready to implode— _too many people, too many loud voices_ written across his face as clear as day—and Izumi takes it upon himself to pull his cloak down over his head, dragging him over. Gratefully, Mika huddles behind him, clinging to the back of his shirt, because clinging to Arashi is off-limits right now, and with there no Shu to be found…well, being third in line is a given. 

“A pass on the bedwarmers, Milady—we’ve wizards in our company, it wouldn’t be proper,” Izumi wryly dismisses, and spares her an apologetic pinch to her rear when she turns away. “A lovely reunion, _Your Grace_ , but when can I expect you to turn in? We’re leaving early.” He’s Northern, it’s expected that he’s brisk and rude, and that comes in handy at times like this.

“If you want to gawk at the wizards,” Arashi says loudly, voice booming even in the noisy tavern room, “come to the Canvera Forum tomorrow. We’ve sent birds to all corners of the West--the wizards want to talk to all of you. I’ve brought two wizards, the best in the land, and one of them is even a Nightcloak. Now leave us be, we’re going to bed.”

“He’s changed,” one woman says sadly, and Arashi ignores her, nodding his head towards the stairs. Izumi doesn’t need to tell him where to go.

“Come on, we’re walking,” Izumi murmurs, pushing Mika in front of him towards the stairs to get him out of the room as quickly as possible. He’s trembling, which makes it harder, and Izumi gives up and lifts him, letting him cling to his neck as he makes it to the stairs. “Gods, you weigh nothing.” 

Mika’s eyes peer over Izumi’s shoulder, fixating on Arashi. “Noisy,” he complains, reaching out with grabbing fingers. “Nn, _kara_ , you’re right, this place is no good…” 

Arashi shuts the door behind all of them, leaning back against it with a long, deep exhale. His hands start trembling, and he presses them to his face, only refraining from sliding down to the ground with sheer force of will. “Sorry,” he whispers. “Sorry. I’ll have it together in a second.”

Izumi reaches over, grabbing Arashi by the arm, and hauls him forcibly over to the bed, pushing him down onto it and dropping Mika into his lap. “Cuddle that,” he orders, stepping back to strip out of his wet clothes, unable to ignore the annoying chafing any longer. “Small towns suck, huh? It’s the same in the North, even smack dab in Sena. Everyone knows everyone, it’s impossible to escape it.” 

“Sorry. Sorry,” Arashi apologizes again, grabbing Mika close, burying his face in his shoulder. “I just, they’re all the fucking same, you know? Every single one of them, all they fucking care about is drinking and fighting and whoring and going to the same damn job every day for forty years until they die. Ugh, I’m being a baby, I know, it’s nothing like the Sandlands, I know, it’s just...”

He waves a hand, dismayed to see it shaking. “All I ever wanted growing up was to escape.”

Mika shakes his head, stuffing his face into Arashi’s neck, and slowly pets his fingers through his damp hair, stroking methodically. “You’re not being a baby, _kara_ ,” he murmurs. “You’re too handsome and cool t’be stuck in a place like this.” 

“I would’ve slept in the mud if we had a choice,” Izumi quietly tells him after rummaging through his pack and hopping into a pair of clean, dry breeches before dropping down onto the side of the bed next to Arashi. It creaks underneath his weight, and he rolls his eyes at it. “But Natsume looks like he’s really not feeling well. Kasa’s keeping an eye on him in the other room, don’t get up, but…yeah. Bad timing, I know.” 

He pulls the tie from his hair, finger-combing it in hopes of having it dry faster, before he gives Arashi’s back a light pat. “Real lords don’t talk directly to their subjects. Just send me if you have something to say before the night’s up.” 

“Don’t kill anyone,” Arashi says, quite aware that it sounds halfhearted. “But if you could get us...Gerte makes the best stew in the entire dominance, I swear I could smell it when we came in. Mika’s got to eat. And I just want to.”

“Mmhm, got it.” Izumi brushes Arashi’s hair entirely the wrong way as he climbs to his feet, grabbing up a dry shirt as well and pulling it on, mostly unlaced. “Be back in a minute.” 

The door clicks shut behind him, and Mika heaves a soft sigh, smoothing Arashi’s hair back into place. “I wish I could talk to people like that,” he says wistfully. “He ain’t even that good at it, he jus’ _can_ talk and I’m bad at even that much. Sorry, _kara._ ” 

“I’m good at people. Most people. Ugh, I shouldn’t have let him go, if he kills someone this is going to be bad,” Arashi grouses, flopping back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“He prolly won’t, he wants to sleep somewhere that’s not dirty,” Mika points out, flopping down to stretch out on Arashi’s chest. “You keep sayin’ that, though,” he quietly says. “Who’s he supposedly wantin’ to kill?” 

Arashi grimaces. “No one I was ever going to tell you about.”

“Mm.” Mika stares up at him, chin on his arms, before he rolls to the side. “Okay. You don’t have t’tell me. They’re the kinda people that should die, I guess?” 

“I don’t know anymore. Maybe.”

Arashi rolls onto his own side, propping his head up on his elbow. “Does anyone ever really know? I mean...do you think some people can change? That they can do something bad when they’re young, and still grow up to be a good person?”

“Depends on what the bad thing is.” Mika’s eyes lid, and he shifts, moving to shed all of his damp clothing now that they’re peacefully _alone_. He hasn’t been able to be naked in days, and it’s a relief now. “Some things, I jus’ think people should die for, even if they jus’ did it once.”

“Yeah?” Arashi wriggles out of his own wet clothes, climbing under the blankets. “What things are those? I...want to hear it from someone else.”

“Mmm. Okay. Doin’ things to hurt kids. Killin’ people, unless it’s a self-defense kinda thing. Hurting animals for fun. Raping people, _especially_ kids. And just hurtin’ people for fun, like the Emperor does, I hate that.” Mika slides underneath the blankets, sighing in satisfaction. The linens aren’t anything special, but they’re clean, and that’s what matters. “That kinda stuff. People that do that kinda stuff…I dunno. I think they deserve what’s comin’ to ‘em.” 

“Deserve it, sure,” Arashi says softly. He keeps his eyes open, turning to stare at the ceiling, not wanting to close his eyes, sort of afraid of what he’ll see when they close. “But it’s been so _long_. I thought I knew what I was asking for, but now we’re _here_ , they’re _here_ , and I just feel like a hysterical kid.”

Mika crawls closer, plastering himself against Arashi’s side, and sets his chin down upon his shoulder. “Would you think I was bein’ a hysterical kid if I found any one of the dozens of guys that bought me in the Sandlands and wanted t’kill him?” 

“No,” Arashi admits. “I’d be standing in front of you with my sword out, trying to cut them down before your ghosties got to them.”

“Then you’re not bein’ a hysterical kid, either. It doesn’t stop bein’ a bad thing jus’ ‘cuz we’re old now.”

Arashi sighs. “You’re probably right. Sorry I never told you about any of this when I know so much about what happened to you, I just...ugh. Never wanted...it’s less that I didn’t want to talk about it, more that I didn’t feel like bringing it up because that would feel like it defined me or something, you know?”

“ _Kara._ ” Mika reaches up, poking the end of Arashi’s nose. “Y’don’t have to tell me everything or _anythin_ ’, honestly. Besides, I…kinda guessed a long time ago, that somethin’ happened. This sounds bad, but…it’s why I felt safe around you, at first.” 

Arashi’s mouth twists hard. “I’m glad you felt safe with me, but...ugh. Can I ask how you knew? I thought I was doing a good job not letting it be part of me.”

“It’s not any way you act,” Mika quickly says, waving a hand. “Or…or anything you keep doin’, it’s…when we first got assigned to your army, you were scary, kinda loud and overbearing and I…couldn’t even look at you. But then I had to go out alone with you at one point, and somethin’ spooked me, I don’t remember what, and I sort of grabbed you without thinking. You were nice about it, but you pulled me off, and picked me up instead, sayin’…that you’d rather be the one doin’ the touchin’, thanks.” He flushes, shrugging. “I know a lot of people would think you were flirting with me, but no one flirts with wizards. So it had to mean something else. That’s all.” 

Slowly, Arashi lets out a breath through his teeth. It’s fine, it’s not anything about you, he tells himself firmly. It’s just that he knows you. That’s good, that means he loves me.

_“I love you,” he says simply, reaching over to grab Mika’s hand. “Sorry I’m a tight-lipped brute that would rather fight dragons than visit my loving parents.”_

“Mmn, I love you, too. I think it’s good. ’s not like you can introduce me to your parents, so whatever. Warm, dry beds alone are a better way to spend the night.” Mika sticks out his tongue. “Besides, you gotta split up your love between me and the snake _somehow_.” 

“Between you and...” Arashi shrugs, not entirely comfortable with that line of thought. “I don’t really...ah. You know I’ll choose you, you’re the one I’m in love with. He’s...different. In a different life, if I hadn’t met you--but you think that about him too, don’t you? He’d be your type if you’d met him first.”

“I want him to dump his idiot prince and run off with us and also pull my hair.”

“Right? Ugh, I _know_ , we’d be very happy, don’t you think?” Arashi darts a suspicious glance towards the door. “I feel like it doesn’t take this long to get soup. Ugh, but I don’t want to go check, I’m being a coward.”

“He’s probably jus’ giving us more time to cool down and talk,” Mika says, shrugging as he snuggles up closer. “Give it a few more minutes. Hey, does the prince make you wanna scream? He’s so noisy and acts like a dumb kid and I can’t trust no one that sleeps with the Emperor so that’s that. Kiss Izumi real good and make him sleep with us tonight.” 

“Be nice to the prince,” Arashi says, scooting closer and wrapping his arms around Mika’s waist. “I’ve talked to a lot of people that know him really well. And even really stodgy, conservative types in the Capital think he’s our best hope for the world. I’ve believed in getting him on the throne for years, you know? He’s got his flaws, but he gives a shit about the people, not like the king we have now.”

He pauses, then adds, “But we should absolutely seduce Izumi into staying with us tonight. We just have to be quiet.”

Mika’s lips purse, even as he plants a kiss to Arashi’s chest. “He seems like a nice guy, but I still can’t trust no one that’s in bed—literally—with the Emperor. My ball’s kinda in the Demon King’s court, but if I gotta side with another human…” He makes a face, huffing out a breath. “Whatever. I don’t wanna talk about it, let’s talk about how the snake’s fair game, he ain’t even bonded to the prince.” 

“They’re not?” That’s something of a surprise, and brings up something Arashi hasn’t brought up ever, not wanting to hear the answer. Slowly, he drags his fingers through the length of Mika’s hair, and asks quietly, “Are you sad that we’re not? I mean, I don’t _think_ we are, but humans can’t really tell, right?”

“We’re not,” Mika confirms, his eyes lidding contently underneath the petting. “But I’m not sad. If we were bonded, if one of us died, the other person would die, too. That’s bad. Also, they seem kinda stressful. I don’t think you’d wanna be in my head that much, and vice versa. Too invasive, real weird.” 

“But doesn’t it mean you guys love each other an extra amount, or something? Or...I mean, you don’t choose it, right? So do you fall in love because you’re bonded, or are you bonded because you fell in love, or...” Arashi huffs. “You’re right, it sounds stressful. I like being able to know that you’re with me because you choose me every day.”

“I don’t think you love anyone extra ‘cause of it,” Mika says. “‘Cause you can’t choose it at all. I think…it’s supposed to be like, you’re naturally compatible, if you bond with someone? But not always, ugh. If you’re comparin’ it to the stuff that Master and the Demon King have goin’ on, that’s _definitely_ an anomaly. First of all, bonds are pretty darn rare anyway, and second of all, most people that’ve got ‘em aren’t that…connected. Even the Sea Wizard—he’s a Nightcloak, but the bond he’s got is real weak and vague.”

There’s a knock on the door, and it opens a moment later courtesy of Izumi’s hip, a tray in hand with two bowls of soup and two tankards of ale. “Sorry that took a moment, got into an argument about whether or not I was a _real_ Northerner because I’m not tall and hairy and dark-haired,” he grouses, kicking the door shut behind himself. “Reminds me how long it’s been since I’ve been able to shave my damn legs, but sure, whatever.” 

Arashi looks down at Izumi’s hands, surreptitiously looking for droplets of blood. Not finding any, he beams, grabbing a bowl and tankard, nodding to the bed next to him. “Come sit, you need to eat too. You can share mine, there’s no way one human can eat all of this.”

“Pass,” Izumi says with a wave of his hand, even though he sits all the same. “I got fresh bread stuffed in my face, that’ll leave me feeling disgusting for hours.” He grabs Mika’s tankard. “But I’ll steal some of this, thanks.” 

Mika sits up to huddle around his own bowl, nibbling on it slowly. “Huh. _Kara’s_ right, this is pretty good. I bet even Master would like it…ahh, I hope he’s doin’ all right.” 

“Izumi, you’re not going to leave us alone for the night, are you?” Arashi asks bluntly, then sips a huge spoonful of his soup, maintaining eye contact. “We both know you’d rather stay here than with the high-strung redhead party next door.”

Izumi winces at that, and looks away, downing a mouthful of ale. “Gross. I hate small town ale. Anyway, am I that obvious?” he dryly asks, wiping his mouth. 

“Nah,” Mika says, not looking up from his bowl. “But we’re still better company.” 

Izumi’s mouth twists. “I’m just worn out,” he admits. “Natsume’s sick, Kasa’s trying not to go flirt with all your busty barmaids, and Leo’s…” He waves a hand, glancing away. “He’s the way he is.” 

“Tell Tsukasa to keep his wick undipped,” Arashi says dryly. “The girls might not be poxed, but it’ll burn to piss for a few months.” He takes a long gulp of his ale, then points at the door. “Mika, _amaka_ , tuck a rag under the door, will you? I want to make some noise tonight. Let’s show him we’re more fun than busty barmaids.” And if it keeps him from thinking too much about where he is for a few minutes, well, so much the better.

Mika sets his bowl of soup on the floor and clambers to his feet, fiddling with the lock on the door before doing as Arashi asks. “Not too much noise,” he hums, flopping back onto the bed, kicking his feet up behind him. “If Natsu isn’t feelin’ good, he’s gotta sleep.” 

Izumi dares another sip of ale, then gives up, making a face as he shoves it over to Arashi. “More for you, Milady. And you—I’m so jealous of you,” he grouses, leaning back to give Mika’s ass a pinch. “I wish I looked like this after traveling for gods know how long.” 

“He’s cute, right?” Arashi pushes his soup onto a nearby table, wriggling out of his shirt. “And we were all in the rain for a goddamn year, so we don’t have to worry about dragging water up here for a bath. Hey, I know we had fun last time...but you guys have to give me a bit more love this time, yeah?” His eyes burn, and he locks them first on Mika, then on Izumi. There’s something beyond hunger in them, something dark, searching, a little desperate.

“Don’t say such obvious things, you harlot,” Izumi scolds, unlacing his own shirt as he leans over, his fingers sliding up to brush aside Arashi’s hair, his mouth following with a warm kiss pressed to the side of his neck. “I was going to spoil you anyway,” he murmurs. “However you want.” 

Mika watches for a moment, chin in hand, before he slithers up, draping his arms around Arashi’s shoulders from behind. “You’re so warm, now that we’re outta the rain,” he sighs happily, his lips closing around the lobe of one ear, his teeth gently scraping against it as he pulls down. “Mmnn, _kara…_ ”

Arashi shivers with the sudden warmth rippling through him. He reaches up, stroking down Izumi’s chest, fingers tracing the dip between his pectorals. Another shiver, and he turns his head, kissing Mika slowly, relaxing back against him as he tugs Izumi close. 

If he’s being honest with himself, this is what he’s wanted for as long as he’s known both of them. But if he’d asked for this the first time, that would have been embarrassing, naughty, selfish. By giving Mika everything he wanted the first time, by catering to his and Izumi’s fantasies...well, now it isn’t so bad if he takes a little pleasure for himself in both of them, is it? “Take care of me,” he murmurs, letting his head roll back onto Mika’s shoulder. “You’re both so good at that.”

“Mm, mm,” Mika agrees languidly, reaching around to idly thumb over Arashi’s nipples, his mouth warm and soft against his neck before he bites, lightly nipping at his skin. “You work too hard, you gotta let us fix you up.”

“It’s not like it’s hard, anyway,” Izumi lowly teases, neatly straddling Arashi’s lap and leaning forward to follow the tip of his head, catching his mouth with his own. His teeth catch at his lower lip, gently scraping before his tongue slides into his mouth, deliberately dragging the tip against the roof of Arashi’s mouth as his hands slide down to slowly unlace his breeches. 

Arashi moans into the kiss, thoughts racing, but silenced beautifully when Izumi kisses him like that. He sucks on Izumi’s tongue, swirling his tongue around it, reaching back to lace his fingers through Mika’s hair. He slowly rolls his hips, helping Izumi strip his breeches off, shifting forward to rub his half-hard cock against Izumi’s thigh. “You kiss,” he murmurs, “like you’re making love. It’s...it’s nice, it’s so nice, I love you both.”

“Yeah, I save it for occasions when I _really_ want a guy to think I’m hot,” Izumi says with a breathless laugh, lurching forward to kiss Arashi again, dragging his hands back through his hair and along his scalp to kiss him long and deep. “Mmm…helps that you taste nice, even after drinking shitty ale,” he murmurs, his eyes lidded as he draws back, a little flick of his tongue snapping the string of saliva connecting them. 

“Arashi always is good,” Mika agrees, leaning forward to get his mouth on Arashi’s as well, wetly sucking on his lower lip with a ragged sigh. His fingers slip lower, thumbs tracing over his hips, then lower, to drag his thumb down the length of his hardening cock. “Nnn, Izumiii…we were talkin’, you should run away with us.” 

“Sounds good,” Izumi says without skipping a beat, tugging the tie in his hair free and tossing it on the floor along with his shirt. “When and where are we going?” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Arashi murmurs, tonguing Mika’s bottom lip, his hands wandering down to squeeze Izumi’s ass, pulling him forward, until they’re pressed together. “But...mm, let’s go North, Mika loves those big hot rocks, what did you call them? The ones with all the blankets on top...our first time was on one of those.”

“Oh, warming stones?” Izumi shivers as he wriggles forward, sighing out a breath through his nose when Arashi’s cock twitches against his own. “Those are the _best_ after a cold bath.” 

“No cold baths,” Mika disagrees, curling painted fingers around Izumi and Arashi’s cocks, idly toying with the drip of precome from the tip of Izumi’s. “Just warming stones.” 

“Sure,” Izumi gasps, his cock giving an eager twitch when Mika’s fingers toy with him, and he gives up, pressing a hurried kiss to Arashi’s mouth before he slides down off the bed and to his knees. “If you want me to spoil you, I’m doing it properly,” he mutters, kissing up the inside of Arashi’s thigh from knee to hip. 

“Mmm, no arguments he~ere,” Arashi murmurs, scooting to the edge of the bed and spreading his legs, hands threading through Izumi’s hair, petting him gently. “Ahh, how long has it been since you’ve used that mouth on someone, darling?” It’s on the verge of his tongue to tease him, to say that he hopes Izumi isn’t out of practice, but the words just don’t come. Instead, he leans over to kiss Mika, then murmurs, “It always feels so good, you take _such_ good care of me...”

Izumi fingers wrap around the base of Arashi’s cock, his eyes lidding beneath the touch to his hair, and the musky, masculine taste on his tongue the second he drags it over the tip for a taste. He shivers, splaying a hand against the inside of Arashi’s thigh as he scoots closer. “Gods, when _was_ the last time,” he snorts, and parts his lips to suck on the head first, groaning low in his throat as he lets it drag further across his tongue. 

“If he’s forgotten how to do it, I’m callin’ dibs,” Mika laughs, nestling himself against Arashi’s side, his own hard cock rubbing against his hip as he nips and sucks on Arashi’s neck, all the way up to his ear. One teasing flick of his tongue turns to it tracing the rim of it, ending with a pointed suck on his ear lobe. 

“Ahhh...” Arashi’s eyes roll back into his head, and his hands tighten in Izumi’s hair, hips rolling forward. His cock is hardening swiftly now, and he closes his eyes, basking in the sensation of slick wet heat encircling the head of his cock. “Mika, _amaka_...don’t pretend like you do this any more often,” he says, gasping a little at a swipe of Izumi’s tongue over the slit at the tip. “You’re always too impatient...ahhh...to have it in you...”

“That’s fair though, it’s so nice,” Mika complains, nipping at Arashi’s earring and tugging on it lightly. His fingers sneak down Arashi’s chest again, idly thumbing over a nipple. “It just feels so _good_ when it’s in me, _kara…_ and you feel so strong when you’re movin’ in me, I can’t help but want it all th’ time…” 

Izumi’s own eyes flutter shut, and he follows the roll of Arashi’s hips, the pull of his hands to let himself be drawn forward, swallowing more of his cock down until it bumps against the back of his throat. He fights down the urge to gag— _that’s new, and annoying, thanks, brain_ —and swallows hard, drawing back just enough to stop his eyes from watering when he drags his tongue from root to tip. “Stop talking about how fucking good his cock is in you, or I’m going to climb on it,” Izumi pants as he tilts his head back for a moment, catching his breath. “You and your stupid sexy accent, I hate you, talk more.” 

The tip of Mika’s tongue sticks out, amused. “Ehh…about how nice Arashi’s pretty cock feels when it’s all the way in you, nice and thick and hard?” His nails slowly drag down Arashi’s spine, feeling every lean muscle twitch underneath his touch. “The best part is that it takes ‘m so~o long to come, ‘cause even if you’re easy like us, we still gotta feel it in us and feel how it makes us squirm~…nnn, unless you lick his ears, then he comes real fast. Don’t you, _kara?_ ” 

“F-for some reason,” Arashi admits with a laugh, feeling his thighs ripple with goosebumps at the touch of Mika’s nails down his spine. His nails, perfectly filed, drag up Izumi’s scalp as he hisses out a breath, looking down. “Take your cock out,” he urges, shifting up to rub the head of his cock over Izumi’s lips. “Gods, you look pretty, you’re both--you’re both so _pretty_ , I’ve always wanted to look like you two, ugh, don’t lick my ears, I wanna last...”

“You’re fucking gorgeous, shut up,” Izumi groans, fumbling to do as he’s told while still mouthing at the head of Arashi’s cock, his tongue lapping at it when it drips over his lips. His own cock twitches in his grasp, and he shivers, lurching forward to suck Arashi’s cock back into his mouth with a wet, sloppy groan. 

“ _Kara’s_ beautiful,” Mika whines, sucking on the side of Arashi’s neck instead because, well, he _does_ want Arashi to last, he supposes. His own cock throbs at the noises Izumi makes, and he huffs. “Like a god…nnn, I’m gettin’ jealous, I wanna taste,” he grouses, and grabs for one of Arashi’s hands instead, planting a kiss to the inside of his palm. then sucking his thumb into his mouth with a deliberate swirl of his tongue. 

Arashi’s breath stutters, and he looks down at Izumi, then up at Mika. Then, he turns, lifting Mika from the bed, settling him on his knees next to Izumi. “This...is a total fantasy of mine,” he admits, resting one hand on each of their heads. “If...you could...ah, share? And I, I love watching you kiss, you’re both so... _perfect_ \--”

Izumi pulls off of Arashi’s cock with a slick, wet pop, a single, hitching breath leaving his lips before he grabs Mika over by a handful of hair, shoving his tongue into his mouth to give him his first taste of what he had _just_ complained about not having enough of. 

A breathless little squeak leaves Mika’s throat before it turns to a pleased rumble, and he tips forward, eagerly sucking on Izumi’s tongue, his fingers pawing down his chest to twist one of his nipples, unable to help himself. Izumi arches with a hiss of breath and shoves him back, scowling. “Brat,” he mutters, licking his lips, which are sticky and reddened from both having a dick in his mouth and kissing. “Watch your hands.”

“You’re just _real_ easy,” Mika hums, taking the opportunity to eagerly scoot forward, his own mouth hot against the side of Arashi’s cock, dragging wet, lingering kisses from root to tip before he sucks on the head and is rewarded with a drip of precome that he licks up with the flat of his tongue. He shudders down to his toes, his cheeks already flushing hot. “I almost forgot…how good y’taste down here…” 

Arashi wants them to share, which fortunately, does a _number_ of pleasant things for Izumi, too. He nuzzles back up the inside of Arashi’s thigh, his own cock throbbing between his legs when he has to wriggle his way closer to get his mouth on the other side of Arashi’s cock, shivering when he feels it twitch underneath his lips. 

Somehow, despite being exactly what he’s envisioned a dozen times while on the lonely road or alone in his tent, this is a hundred times, a thousand times better than anything Arashi had ever imagined it would be. He groans, feeling his cock twitch and start to throb from how hard he is, dripping onto Mika’s tongue, the shaft rubbing along Izumi’s lips. “You two,” he pants, “are so good at this, it’s _so_ unfair...ahh, I just want to watch you do this forever...”

He licks his lips, petting through Izumi’s hair, other hand tangled in Mika’s. “You can...touch each other, if you want,” he says softly. “I know you can both come...so many times, it’s so pretty to watch...”

Mika’s eyes lid as he pulls against the hand in his hair, his tongue dragging over the head of Arashi’s cock before he sucks more of it down with a wet, pleased sound. The mess that drips onto his tongue leaves even his lips slick with it when he bobs his head, pulling back, and he grabs for Izumi’s hair, dragging him over to stuff his tongue into his mouth, tilting his head to make sure Arashi has a good view of the messy, sticky kiss, his tongue dragging visibly against Izumi’s. 

“Fuck,” Izumi gasps, his fingers trembling where they grip at Arashi’s thigh, his face hotter and cock even harder after that. Mika looks like a cat that’s got the cream, intensely pleased, his eyes dilated behind heavy lashes, and Izumi huffs out a hot breath, grabbing one of Mika’s hands to pull it to his cock. “Take responsibility,” he rasps before his own tongue busies itself with Arashi’s cock, uninterested in letting even a single drop what leaks from the tip go to waste. 

“Gods,” Arashi groans, thighs tensing as the two of them work him over, sending him nearly to the brink of paradise, both of them so good at this it’s almost strange, or would be if he didn’t know just how much experience they have. He nearly bucks up into Izumi’s mouth, but restrains himself, eyes darting down to watch Mika stroking Izumi. “Stop,” he pants, “stop, stop, or I’m going to come. I want to do more first, I don’t want it to be over so soon.”

Izumi pulls back with a groan, licking at his lips and pouting up at Arashi. “I’ve made you come more than once before,” he complains. “I can do it again.” 

“I get the first one, then,” Mika hums, his mouth going to Arashi’s cock instead, his tongue flicking out just enough to tease at the tip of it again before he sucks it into his mouth. He exhales a long, rumbling sigh, eyes fluttering as he tilts his head forward to swallow Arashi down as far as he can—which is far enough that Arashi’s cock hits the back of his throat before sliding down further, and he swallows hard, breathing through his nose as his fingers still drag up Izumi’s cock. 

“Fuck,” Izumi murmurs, dropping his cheek to Arashi’s thigh, his eyes shutting as Mika’s fingers stroke and squeeze him. He lifts a hand, unable to stop from pinching one of his own nipples with a hitching little breath.“T-that’s…not fair—don’t come in his mouth, come in _me_ , Mika can put it in, too, it’ll be good…” 

Mika pulls off with a slow, wet suck, contemplative. “What d’you think, _kara?_ ” he murmurs. “You want him to ride your cock nice and slow and make you feel real nice? I bet I could fit in there, too, and it’d be sooo tight…” 

Izumi curses, burying his face into Arashi’s thigh when he spills with just another absent squeeze of Mika’s fingers, just the thought of it enough to send him spilling over the edge. His cock doesn’t get any softer for it, which just leaves him shivering, twitching, overstimulated where he kneels. “I-I’ll do whatever you want,” he pants out. “Just…let me make you feel good…” 

“This is so unfair,” Arashi groans, hands twisted in thick-soft hair, one silver, one dark, mind fizzling and sparking from the wet heat of Mika’s throat. Then he nods, reaching down to squeeze the base of his own cock, grabbing Mika and tossing him onto his back. “Ride him,” he decides, nodding at Izumi, then over to where Mika’s cock is hard and ready and so obviously eager that Arashi aches just looking at him. “Then I’ll get in you, too, and we’ll see just how much you can really take.”

Not for nothing, no one will be facing him, either, and Arashi craves that during sex a hell of a lot more than he wants to admit.

Mika hits the bed with a giddy little noise, entirely too pleased as he grabs for Izumi with eager hands. “I love it when you throw me, _kara_ ,” he sighs, reaching off the bed to fumble for wherever Arashi’s belt ended up, and upon finding it, pulls out a bottle of oil. “Ahh, I think I’m the one gettin’ spoiled tonight, actually…” 

“Yeah, I’m a gift,” Izumi huffs, slinging a leg over Mika’s hips and snatching the oil away. He doesn’t bother fingering himself, and instead, just lets the oil drip down Mika’s cock, making him shiver and jerk at the sudden, slick coolness. “When’s the last time you got to be in someone, hmm?”

“A… _while,”_ Mika groans, his hands immediately sliding to Izumi’s hips, his voice breaking on a squeak when Izumi grabs at his cock, pulling it to his hole, and that first, slick-tight- _hot_ press of his head inside makes him writhe. “Nnnn, f-fuck, you’re—“

“A gift, I already said it,” Izumi breathlessly says, arching his back as he slides down, his mouth falling open when Mika’s cock sinks into him, achingly hard and nestled at _just_ the right angle. His fingers dig into Mika’s shoulders as he rocks back, shivering, and he lifts a hand to shove his hair out of his face before glancing back over his shoulder at Arashi. “There’s room, c’mon,” he murmurs, dangling the little vial of oil. “Both of you need to feel good.” 

Arashi slides the oil onto his cock, shifting up onto his knees. He places a row of kisses, then nips, all along Izumi’s neck, bruising him up in careful patterns as he strokes his cock, then presses the head to Izumi’s stretched hole. “I don’t know,” he murmurs, reaching down to trace his fingertip around Mika’s cock resting deep inside Izumi. “You feel pretty full...I’m not sure even _this_ slutty hole can take even more...push down and beg like a good girl, then we can all feel _really_ good.”

He presses a kiss to Izumi’s ear, adding, “When’s the last time you got properly fucked, darling? Not by your pretty prince, I’m sure...”

Izumi shudders, clenching down around Mika’s cock before he can help himself. Mika hisses out a sharp breath, trembling as he _tries_ to be still, shoving himself up onto his elbows to better brace himself and do just that, but it’s easier said than done when his cock is so hard that it twitches and leaks inside every time Izumi so much as _breathes._

“It’s been…way too long,” Izumi admits with a ragged laugh, his eyes fluttering shut. _When?_ Right, when he’d cuddled up to Makoto naked and still unsure on the way back to High Harbor, when he still felt fucking ugly and entirely unwanted. The memory should probably do less for him than it does, but Izumi pants as he arches back, squirming down, trying to push down onto Arashi’s cock. “Y-you’ve gotta put it in me, please, I…” 

Someone who knows Izumi less probably wouldn’t notice, but Arashi does. His eyes are sharp, and he sees the sudden tension, the sudden gasp, and he wraps his arms around Izumi, hands skating up his belly, up to pinch and tug at his nipples. Then he rocks closer, letting the head of his cock start to breach that tight ring of muscle, so tight that it feels impossible that it doesn’t tear. “Open up wide, darling,” he murmurs, husky and low. “Who are you thinking about fucking your tight ass, sweetheart? Anyone we know?”

“Gotta be someone _real_ good if you’re thinkin’ about them instead of us,” Mika lowly teases, unable to stop himself from lurching up now, his mouth on Izumi’s throat, sucking and biting on already marred skin. “Nnnh… _kara…_ you feel so hot…” 

Izumi huffs out a hot, wet breath, tears springing to the corner of his eyes when Arashi starts to sink inside of him. It’s _definitely_ too much, he should’ve not been so hasty and taken the time to finger himself or _something_ , but fuck if it doesn’t feel good in the most insanely achy, too-tight kind of way. He sags forward, mouth open as he pants, trying to relax a bit more—but it doesn’t happen until the head of Arashi’s cock pops inside of him, and he just shudders, his fingers uselessly grabbing onto whatever part of Mika he can reach. “T…they’re not, so d-don’t make me say it,” he begs, his voice gone low and throaty. A trickle of sweat drips down his spine, and his head lolls back against Arashi’s shoulder. “Ah…f..fuck…that’s…” 

Arashi’s teeth rasp against Izumi’s ear, then he lurches forward, grabbing Mika’s face, kissing him hard before releasing him, all the better to thrust in _hard_. “You’re so--ahh, you don’t have to tell me,” he murmurs, biting again, rocking in deep. His cock drags against Mika’s, rocking in so deep Izumi has to be hurting and too-full, and his hand dips down, cupping Izumi’s dripping cock. “Just keep thinking about him, let us have your pretty body.”

Izumi clamps a hand over his own mouth to muffle the broken, too-loud sounds that want to escape when Arashi rocks in that hard, that _deep_ , but Mika rips it away, shoving a pair of fingers past his lips and against his tongue. A low, grateful moan escapes Izumi’s throat instead, and he sucks on those fingers as Mika shifts to better match Arashi’s rhythm, his own breath ragged as he grinds his cock in deep. 

“He likes it so _much_ , _kara_ ,” Mika dazedly murmurs, his other hand digging into the mattress to brace himself when he shoves up, his chest heaving at how _tight_ it is, how hard it is to even move. Izumi’s cock twitches and drips over Arashi’s fingers, down onto Mika’s stomach as well, and he twists the fingers against Izumi’s tongue, feeling it curl and eagerly follow them. “He’s…nnh…y-yeah, we gotta steal him, I’ve never been in anyone so tight before…” 

“We’re stealing him,” Arashi promises, slamming in hard and deep, squeezing and stroking Izumi’s cock, feeling the power course through him. He loves the this part, loves feeling someone else come undone because he’s fucking them so good, loves the sense of raw power that comes with it. “We’re gonna--keep him to use like this,” he breathes, rocking up hard, setting a punishing rhythm, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the head of Izumi’s cock. “Whenever you need someone--to fuck--or a mouth to put your cock in, and he’ll be so _grateful_ \--won’t you, darling?”

A rasping, desperate groan escapes Izumi’s throat, and he nods mindlessly, pitching forward and clinging to Mika’s shoulders to try and brace himself when his body seizes up helplessly with those words, with both of them spreading him so far open that he can barely _breathe_ , with Mika’s fingers on his tongue and Arashi’s on his cock. His cock twitches hard, the tension taking him by surprise, making him squeeze down so hard around them both that he sobs when he spills over Arashi’s fingers, dripping messily over them splattering across Mika’s chest and belly.

Mika shudders hard. His chin hooks over Izumi’s shoulder as he rocks up hungrily, panting into his hair, his own cock giving a threatening twitch inside. “K… _kara…_ I can’t w-wait anymore—“ 

“’s fine,” Izumi manages, his head lolling back so he can talk, tongue flicking out over bruised lips. “You…ah…g-gods…y-you can come in me and Arashi can keep going as long as he needs, it…I like it…” 

Izumi barely gets to finish talking before Mika whimpers, biting down into Izumi’s shoulder to keep his voice down, and it’s suddenly _much_ slicker inside of him, much easier for both of them to move, which just makes Izumi writhe with a low groan, squirming down even though his limbs threaten to melt out from underneath him. 

The delight Arashi feels from watching Izumi and Mika come apart is hot in his veins, something victorious, sizzling through him. “You’re both so beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to Izumi’s neck, then reaching out to brush a touch to Mika’s cheek.

He gives another few thrusts, then another few, grabbing Izumi’s hips and increasing his pace. His brow furrows after a few moments, and he tries to focus, thinking of how lovely Izumi is around him, how beautiful Mika looks, how much they both love him, how sweet they both are, how good they looked sucking his cock.

But just as strong is the smell of this place, the familiar sounds downstairs, the light coming in the window that he knows is coming from his father’s house.

Nothing seems to work. His orgasm retreats, getting farther and farther away. His cock is still hard, but he grunts, pulling out, turning away so Izumi doesn’t see his face. “That was gorgeous, darling, thank you.”

Izumi shifts, grimacing, limbs shaky as he pulls away, letting Mika’s cock slide from his body. That’s a sticky mess he doesn’t want to deal with at the moment, so he ignores it. Mika, bless him, is as out of it as he always is after a good orgasm—sleepy and flushed as he reaches out when Izumi leans away. “Nnh…cuddle.” 

“In a minute,” Izumi reassures him, pushing Mika’s sweaty hair into his face. Mika seems unconcerned and rolls sideways, curling into a ball, and Izumi exhales as he turns, crawling over, gingerly touching Arashi’s arm. “Hey,” he softly says, “I’ll finish you off however you want. Sorry, I didn’t mean to make it about me.” 

Arashi forces a smile, turning to press a kiss to Izumi’s cheek. “You didn’t, it’s just me. Don’t worry about it. I’m...ugh, maybe I’ll go into the woods and punch a tree for a while, I’ve got a lot of weird energy.”

Izumi spares another glance to Mika—now drooling into the pillow, already fast asleep—and he sighs, pushing his hair out of his face. “Must be nice, to have a mind that shuts right the fuck up like that,” he murmurs, then he shakes out his hands, cracking his knuckles. “Lie down, I’ll give you a back rub,” he orders. “It’s pouring down rain and you just got dry.” 

Arashi huffs, then flops down, rolling carefully onto his stomach, adjusting his still-hard cock underneath him. “I hope this isn’t just me getting old,” he says frankly, “because it really stinks. Work your magic fingers. Hey, think you can heal memories?”

“I’d be a much less irritable person if I could,” Izumi dryly says, neatly settling himself to straddle the backs of Arashi’s thighs. His thumbs immediately dig into the base of Arashi’s spine before dragging upward, starting at the source of all of his tension. “Maybe this’ll get you off, if you can relax a bit. I’m sorry we have to stay here tonight. I’d be the same way, if we were in the capital.” 

“Fair enough,” Arashi says, then groans when Izumi hits some beautiful pressure points, loosening his muscles in a way that makes him drool against the bed. “S-sounds good. Ugh, you take such good care of me...we’re not joking, run away with us, we want you.”

Izumi says nothing for a moment, focusing instead on splaying his fingers out against the lean, solid muscle of Arashi’s back and pushing his weight into his slow, methodical kneading. “Say it again, and I might,” he quietly says. 

“Don’t be an idiot.” Arashi turns, laying his cheek against the blanket, giving Izumi a wry smile. “Even if you wanted to run away, I don’t. I’ve worked too damn hard to get where I am to run away from it now.”

“Who says you have to run away?” Izumi mutters, shoving Arashi’s hair up and out of the way to get at his shoulders next. “You just keep doing what you’re doing, and I’ll go with you.” 

“And if--ahhh, fuck, fuck, that’s good--if what I’m doing...is supporting your prince?”

“Fine. All the better for it.” Izumi hesitates, running a thumb down the back of Arashi’s neck, then pressing his fingers in, slowly rubbing. “It’s not that I don’t support him, or that I don’t want to,” he softly says. “The idea of going back to the capital right now…it makes me sick. I know, suck it up, pretty boy, whatever.” 

Arashi huffs out a mirthless laugh. “If you think I’d say that, after freaking out about being back in this town, you think I’m a total hypocrite.” He closes his eyes, letting Izumi touch him, then says almost casually, “It was in the stables downstairs. In this building.”

“Fuck.” Izumi’s hands still for a second, and he sighs, flopping down against Arashi’s back, running his fingers up through his hair, along his scalp. “I’m sorry.” 

“Like you said. Nowhere else. I did try to sleep in the woods.”

Arashi shifts back, closing his eyes as he nestles against Izumi. He doesn’t mean to start talking, but his mouth, his stupid, runaway mouth, seems to have other ideas. “They were older than me. Fifteen, twenty, nineteen, something like that. I was getting water for my mother. I remember so clearly, the tanners had brought their things a day early and the tubs were contaminated, she had to change it out. I had this huge stick, and I’d slide buckets onto each end so I could carry a lot more at one time. I was on my way back from the river, uphill. It was my fourth trip, and my legs were wobbling, I was so tired.”

He swallows. Shadows shift on the walls, from trees in the wind outside. “They grabbed me outside the stables. I thought they were going to rough me up, so I brought the stick. I was so damn angry, they made me spill the buckets and I was already so tired, but...they broke it in two, right over Goran’s knee. Eris hit me in the back with one half. I fell. I...gods, I felt like a man, but I couldn’t have been more than twelve.” His throat closes, and he blinks rapidly, trying to calm the racing of his heart.

Izumi shifts, rolling onto his side, and he gingerly pulls Arashi back against him to properly spoon him. “I mean it, you know,” he quietly says, mouth against Arashi’s hair. “I’m going to turn around in the morning and slaughter them.” 

“I picked up the stick after they left.” 

Arashi’s voice quavers, as if he hasn’t heard a thing Izumi said, hands twisting in the blanket. “I had--I had to keep getting water home, but it wouldn’t--I just kept trying to put it back together, but it wouldn’t stick, it wouldn’t--and I tried wrapping it with rope, I tried everything, but the second I put any weight on it it would just _snap_ again, and Ma smacked me for being late, and Pop for breaking the stick, and--”

He cuts himself off, hearing the note of hysteria in his voice. One deep breath in, one deep breath out. “After that...everything that seemed annoying about this place seemed...intolerable. People laughing too loud at night, I was sure they were laughing at me. Men pushing each other around, it just looked like they were getting ready to do damage, everything--everything that was funny just seemed cruel. So I ran away. Haven’t been back since. Until today.”

Another apology for having to stay here, even for a second, seems useless at best. Izumi just nods instead, giving Arashi’s waist a slow, even squeeze. “I get it,” he says instead, his voice soft and even. “I do. But I’m here, this time.” _For whatever that’s worth, I suppose._

Arashi rubs at his face, but it’s dry, as if his tears are so old they couldn’t imagine falling after so long. “It feels so stupid to be upset about,” he admits on a whisper. “I couldn’t tell Mika--his story is so, so much harder, and what you went through is _so_ much worse...I feel like a coward. I hate that.”

“Arashi. It’s not a contest.” Izumi lifts a hand to toy with the ends of Arashi’s hair gently. “It’s still fucking disgusting, what they did. All of it is.” 

“Yeah.” At least he can agree on that much. He reaches up, twining his fingers with Izumi’s, and then takes a long breath. When he exhales, what comes out is, “I want you to fuck me.”

What follows is a weighted pause, and Izumi wondering if his typically sex-addled brain misheard. “Wait. What?” 

“Fuck me.” 

Arashi moves Izumi’s hand to his hip, closing his eyes as he shifts back. “You know how to do it. I’m literally never going to offer again if you don’t do it now.”

“Shit, you’re serious,” Izumi mutters, forcing his mind to process, forcing his body to move. “All right—ah—where’d the oil go,” he exhales, shifting to pat around on the bed until he finds it, tangled up in the sheets. “I’ll do it however you want, but let me finger you first.” 

“You’ve--you’ve done this with--ugh, the word virgin sounds really wrong, but...guys that don’t do this often, right?” Arashi asks, trying not to let the trepidation creep into his voice. He fists his hand in the blanket, eyes wandering to Mika’s dozing form as he adjusts. “Should I roll onto my stomach again, or...?”

“I have, and I’m good at it,” Izumi reassures him, pressing a kiss to the back of Arashi’s shoulder. “You can just stay on your side, if that’s comfortable. If you hate it, I’ll stop, and I’ll give you the best blowjob of your life,” he says with a soft laugh, pouring the oil over his fingers, and trailing one of them neatly down the cleft of Arashi’s ass. “Sometimes, one finger feel kinda…meh,” he murmurs, but he doesn’t let Arashi shy away just yet, and simply rubs that first finger against his hole. “So give it a minute. Deep breath. Think about how good I make it look when you’re fucking me.” 

“You never let me finger you,” Arashi says on a laugh, but it hitches. He instinctively wants to flinch away, but bites down on his bottom lip, forcing himself to stay still. “It’s--sorry, it’s not that it feels bad, it’s just an instinct. How do I keep from clenching?”

“Bullshit, you’ve fingered me before. I remember one time vividly, that night in the North, when _you_ plotted an orgy with me at the center without even a single warning…” Izumi leans up, trying the trick that Mika had so aptly demonstrated earlier of sucking on the lobe of Arashi’s ear, the dragging his tongue up along the rim of it. Arashi relaxes for a second, or rather, is distracted enough not to be impossibly tense, and he slides that finger in to the second knuckle, immediately curling it back towards himself with a deliberate stroke. “This is just a different kind of massage, _honestly_ ,” he teases, pressing and rubbing. “Think about it like you’re riding a horse—too tense, and you’ll fall right off. So just relax and move with it, it’s a lot easier that way.” 

Arashi sucks in a breath. The sudden invasion feels almost painful at first, reminding him unpleasantly of other activities he’d rather not think of right now, but Izumi’s advice is good. He breathes, then takes the advice quite literally, riding down against Izumi’s hand as if he’s in the saddle, letting his mouth part as he does. “It’s...not bad,” he manages. Hell, he’s had all of his bones broken at some point or another, this is nothing.

“There you go,” Izumi murmurs, gently nipping at the lobe of Arashi’s ear. “That’s better. Mmn, hold on, I know one finger doesn’t feel that great, it’s more irritating than anything…” 

When Arashi moves against him, he carefully works a second finger inside, and that’s _much_ easier to rub and stroke against the little textured spot that he finds when he presses them in deep. “Better, Milady?” 

Arashi lets out a hiss, pushing back before he understands what his body is doing, seeking more of that elusive sensation, and more inside of him by extension. He lets out a groan, and nods, reaching down to hoist one of his own legs up higher, giving Izumi better access. “B-better, yes, yes, good--shit, call me that more, let me be your lady...”

“You _are_ my lady.” Izumi presses up closer, letting his own, renewed erection rub against Arashi’s lower back as his fingers work him over, stroking firmly when he isn’t spreading his fingers wider, helping to ease out some of that aching tension that he can still feel shivering down Arashi’s spine. “Fuck, you’d be the perfect woman, you know that?” he murmurs. “I’d marry you in a heartbeat, but we’d get nothing done because I’d always want to be in you.” 

Most days, Arashi doesn’t give a shit how most people see him. He’s content to be seen however people want to see him, content to be the soldier, the leader, the lord that folks assume him to be, even if...

Even if...

Even if just now, Izumi pressing fingers into him, assuring him that he’s a _lovely_ woman, alluring and cute and irresistible, makes him muffle a cry into the blanket, sending more shivers through him than the entire time he’d had his cock buried inside Izumi. He shudders, cock jumping between his thighs, and hoists his leg up higher, parting his thighs as much as he can. “Let me,” he breathes, “be your lady, your bride, please...”

Izumi exhales a hot, eager breath against the back of Arashi’s neck, mouthing a wet kiss there as he slowly pulls his hand out, wiping it on the sheets before he fumbles for the bottle of oil again. “Let me drag you up North and you can be,” he pants against his ear, hurriedly pouring the oil into the palm of his hand, swiping it down his cock, and letting the head of his cock nudge against that now-slick hole. He’d take more time with this, but when it’s a matter of making sure Arashi enjoys himself, he _has_ to be in a bit of a hurry. He loops an arm underneath Arashi’s thigh, helping to pull it up, to open him even more as he sucks on the side of his neck. “Having you like this—makes me think of being back in the Sandlands, when you were so _pissed_ that no one thought you were the whore,” he sighs, biting his lip as he eases the head of his cock inside, his eyes fluttering when it starts to sink in. “T…their loss—I’d pay good money for someone like you.” 

“Fuck!”

_The shout escapes before Arashi can stop himself, and he clenches down hard, eyes squeezed tightly shut as he tries to relax, tries to breathe, tries to do anything besides lie impaled on Izumi’s cock, as if that’s his entire life from now on, the only thing that matters. He squirms back, feeling as if he’s got to be some kind of active participant, but Izumi knows just where to touch him, just how to stroke and tease and thrust, and he feels himself drooling onto the blanket. “You’re--ahhh, ahhhhh, please, that’s so--hnn, you’re--”_

His hand flails up, and connects with something hard--Mika’s ankle. He groans, pulling his hand back, and somehow finds the correct combination of muscles and breathing to help him relax, bearing down as Izumi’s cock suddenly slides in deep.

Izumi’s own breath leaves in a heady rush, and he presses another kiss to Arashi’s shoulder, trembling as his hips roll forward, grinding in those last few centimeters until their skin presses flush. He glances up briefly to where Mika cracks open an eye, sticks his tongue out at him, and then promptly snuggles further down into mattress. _Good, of course you get it._ “Shh, Milady, you’re going to wake up our neighbors,” he whispers, a firm nudge rolling Arashi over, urging him onto his stomach where it’s easier for Izumi to shove in deep when he rises up to his knees behind him. He plants a hand next to Arashi’s head as he shoves in, hissing out a sharp breath at how tight he is, but it’s far from impossible now when Arashi arches back against him. “A pretty lady you might be, but a proper one you’re not—the way you’re moving makes it feel like you _love_ this.” 

“Y-you don’t want a proper lady, though,” Arashi breathes, letting his eyes stay closed, giving himself up to sensation. He presses back, again and again, each time feeling the slick burn of Izumi deep inside of him, making a mental note to be a lot more gentle the next time he’s on top, overwhelmed by the sheer _friction_ of it all. “You want...a woman like me. A woman who...likes being this way...for you...Milord...”

There’s an almost sick heat in his belly, deep and raw, making him feel too-hungry and too-full at the same time, blood pounding as he arches back, cock rising, swelling, aching. “And I... _love_ it, fuck--”

“Damn right you do,” Izumi grunts, shoving forward when Arashi arches back. His hand paws around underneath him, tempted to grab for his cock and help him along—but on second thought, his fingers drag up to Arashi’s nipples, pulling and twisting one of them as he rolls his hips in slowly. “Don’t worry,” he rasps against Arashi’s neck. “I’ll make sure—to—ahh—fuck you like this every day, Milady. Until you’re bowlegged and aching—until there’s no _way_ for you to fake being _proper_ …you’ll look like you really…belong in the Sandlands, no better than a fancy whore.” Izumi licks his lips, and shivers as he nips at Arashi’s shoulder. “My whore.” 

Arashi’s orgasm takes him by surprise, hips jerking forward as he spills onto the mattress in a long stream, far more than he remembers ever coming before, bucking back onto Izumi’s thick cock thrusting into him. He bites into the blanket to keep from screaming, trying to get his thighs farther apart to let Izumi in deep, breath choking on a sob. “M-my lord, please--you’re where you--ahh, where you belong, aren’t you?”

Izumi shoves his face into Arashi’s hair, panting hard through his next few thrusts, grabbing at Arashi’s hips to hold him still as he grinds in deep. Arashi is so tight around him that his eyes cross, and he spills with a ragged gasp, refusing to take too long, to draw it out and make it too much to the point of painful. “You—ahh…fuck…gods, you feel like heaven,” he manages around a ragged laugh, his eyes fluttering as he leans back, blinking sweat out of his eyes. His cock twitches again, making him hiss, and he wobbles, slumping down into Arashi’s back. “And like a mess…heh. Sorry.” 

Arashi sucks in a few ragged breath, feeling the sweat pool between his shoulderblades, just breathing against the blanket for a long minute. Then, finally, he murmurs simply, “Thank you.”

“Any time.” Izumi plants a kiss to Arashi’s hair, and slowly, carefully pulls out, an absent touch along his lower back quickly intended to ease any sting and ache beyond something pleasant. He flops to the side, holding out his arms. “Cuddle with me. It’s my turn to bitch now.” 

Arashi throws an arm over Izumi’s chest, dragging him close, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You’re beautiful. Bitch to me.”

Pleased, Izumi nestles up against him, finding a warm, comfortable place with his face half-buried into Arashi’s shoulder. “I didn’t get to tell you why I turned around and came back to High Harbor. I mean,” he admits, “it was partially because of you. I already felt sick about leaving you lot behind the second I rode off.” 

Mika shifts in his sleep, rolling over to flatting himself against Arashi’s back, drooling in his hair. Izumi rolls his eyes, reaching over to poke him, testing if he’s still asleep for real this time. He doesn’t stir, so that’s something. “Some backstory. I sobbed my heart out to Leo on the beach and told him everything, right? He took it upon himself to swear vengeance for me and told me he’d handle all of it and all of the men that tortured me would be declared war criminals and executed. Sounds nice in theory, doesn’t it?” 

“The way you say it makes me want to stab him through the wall,” Arashi says softly, stroking Izumi’s hair. “And you haven’t even gotten to the part where he lets you down like a spineless coward yet.”

“Oh, just wait. I’m getting there.” Izumi eyebrows raise. “So we head back to the capital. We were barely a day out before Leo decided to tell me he was changing all of the plans we agreed on, and he was going to try and _reason_ with his father. And if his father accepted him back, then all of those men? Well. I can take them to court, obviously. Because that’s the kind of thing you want to do with six different rapists, all the heads of upstanding noble houses, when you’re _still_ a page trying to _maybe_ rise up in society at some point in his life. It’s not like he can do anything, he reminded me. He wasn’t there, he can’t testify as a witness.” His lips purse, and he shuts his eyes briefly. “He eventually felt guilty, I suppose, and killed one of them. Left him as a gift in my mother’s camp, not that I got to see it, because I already left. I told him I’m over it, but I’m not, really. I…I wish I knew how to be, but that…shit like that really cuts deep, you know?” 

“Want me to kill him for you, after I’m done with the remaining five?” Arashi asks, only half-joking. “Honestly...I know you love the boy, but that’s _bad_. I still think he’ll be a good king, but he clearly needs someone to straighten him out. At least let me beat him up a little.”

“No, no, don’t beat him up, I already slapped him…after he asked me to,” Izumi glumly says. “I bring this on myself. He means well, he does, he just…he gets so wrapped up in everything and doesn’t know what to do.” He heaves a sigh. “And now he wants me to go and fight the Captain of the Kingsguard…which I already agreed to, it’s not the fight that’s the problem, I’m not afraid of this guy, even if he’s some magical half-blood. It’s the fact that he still doesn’t understand why I’m hemming and hawing about going back to the capital. Hello, they’re still all alive, why do I want to show my face there and duel a guy while they’re all watching? So he jokes about me being afraid. Well, yes, asshole, thanks for mentioning it, but not about what you think I’m afraid of.” 

Arashi huffs. “Listen...I think he’s awful for this, honestly. But I’m just going to throw out one thing you might want to think of from his perspective if you want--or if you don’t, just tell me, and we’ll just talk about how he’s shit.”

“No, I’m begging you, give me perspective. I can’t stop thinking about this shit and I really wish I could make it go away.” Izumi feels his lower lip wobble, and he bites it, hard. “I really love him. I just feel like _I_ got slapped in the face, and for no good reason. Help.” 

Arashi presses a kiss to Izumi’s temple, holding him close. “I’ve met him a few times. And I’ve heard him talk about you plenty of times, too. And honestly? I bet he just can’t imagine you genuinely being afraid of something, or not being able to handle something. And mostly, I think that because I get it. And the only, the _only_ reason I know how much it’s bothering you is because...because I’ve been raped, too. And I know how it fucks you up. He doesn’t know, does he? And you think--you’d think you could understand, but I guarantee...I don’t know if it’s better or worse, but...I’m so sure he can only see that same strong young man he’s always known, because how can you ever imagine how bad it will mess with you, until it happens?”

He huffs, shaking his head. “Sorry to lecture. Just a thought.”

“You’re not lecturing.” Izumi sighs, flapping an arm where it drapes over Arashi’s side. “I know that’s what it is, I know. But it’s just…so _tiring_ to keep faking like I’m the same, you know? And when I give up and stop faking it, and just try to do what I want so I feel better, he gets uppity because that’s not what _he_ wants. That kind of thing never used to irritate me, I used to like it, but now…” He shrugs helplessly. “Why won’t he just go kill everyone for me? I feel like I deserve it. I know you can’t answer that, I know. Sorry.” 

“Nah. But this is literally the same thing that happened to me, after...” Arashi grimaces. “Kind of a shitty side effect. But yeah. Everything that seemed harmless before suddenly felt malicious. You can think he’s shitty for a while, but...if you think, honestly think that being around him is bad and you’re not going to get over it, you’ve got to end it with him.”

Arashi wrestles with himself for a moment, then plows on. “And you don’t want to hear it, but all you’re ever going to be is his secret concubine, because he’s the fucking prince. And honestly, when you keep pestering him to do things that the king can’t do, like let him marry you...you’re making him feel like nothing he does will be enough. I’ve _seen_ it, darling. I know you’re just lashing out, but you’re making it harder on yourself.”

“I know.” Izumi’s voice is quiet, and he sighs, rolling onto his back, throwing an arm over his face. “I know that. I avoided even flirting with him as much as I could for seven years because I knew I’d be like this. That’s why when you say shit like ‘run away with me, let us kidnap you’—it’s so…cathartic. Because I know you actually mean it, and you’re not just talking about a random fantasy. You already ran away once, he never can if he wants to keep living the life that he’s become accustomed to. And he does, I know.” 

“I’m with you, but you can’t let this be a pity party,” Arashi says gently, stroking Izumi’s hair. “I’m so with you, but you _know_ it’s not about his lifestyle, it’s about wanting to change shit. I barely know him and I know that much. And that’s worse, because if it were about his lifestyle, he’d be a prick you shouldn’t bother with. So...do you want to stay, knowing that he’s going to put the country above you--always, which is good, because a king _should_ \--or do you want to get out while you can?”

Izumi shrugs, saying nothing for a moment, until Mika pipes up against Arashi’s back: “He fucked the Emperor. Dump ‘im.” 

Izumi sputters on a short, wet laugh, and he flops a hand tiredly. “Go back to sleep, gods. I don’t know. I’m…I didn’t expect him to show up while we were heading out here and I wasn’t done thinking about all of it, so I really don’t know yet. I just want to kill some people and stop being stressed all the time.” 

“More importantly,” Arashi interjects, sliding a hand back to squeeze Mika’s, “who were you thinking about while we were fucking you? It wasn’t your pretty prince.”

Izumi blinks, then flushes, rolling onto his side and presenting them both with his back. “I was hoping you’d forget about that. You still could, actually.”

“Nope, now I wanna know,” Mika sighs, snuggling up more firmly against Arashi’s back, face buried into his hair as he twines their fingers together. “C’mon, share, share.” 

“Seriously, he must have really gotten in your head if you’re thinking about him while we’re in you,” Arashi teases, nipping at Izumi’s shoulder. “Share, share!”

“You two are the worst! Ugh, I wasn’t even thinking about someone, not really!” Izumi protests, swatting Arashi away. “You asked when the last time I had someone in me was, and I…well, I thought back to then, that’s all.”

“Whoooo.”

“You sound like a creepy ghost when you do that, stop it. Fine, fine, it was Yuukun. Makoto. You know, the cute blond one…”

“Yeah, we know who he is,” Arashi says, amused. “Mika’s sucked his cock, after all. Remember, _amaka_? The surprisingly well-hung Dawncloak?”

“Yeah, he’s cute,” Mika says, hooking his chin over Arashi’s shoulder to peer over at Izumi. “And he’s got a nice enough dick, I guess. Didn’t really see him bein’ your type so hard, buuut…” 

“Oh, shut up,” Izumi grumpily retorts. “I’ve known him forever and he made me feel good when I was feeling really shitty, that’s all. Ugh, I hope he’s doing all right, I didn’t want to leave him behind in High Harbor but it’s the safest place for him right now…” 

“Listen to him,” Mika whispers in Arashi’s ear, as if Izumi can’t hear him. “He’s all flustered, it’s cute.”

“I know, it’s adorable,” Arashi replies in a stage whisper. “Don’t worry, idiot. You can be in love with more than one person at once, obviously. I’m in love with both of you, for example.”

“I’m not—you two are being terrible and I hate you.”

“He’s so mad, it’s real adorable.” Mika hums as he snuggles against Arashi’s back, thoroughly amused. “Mmn, well, I hope he loves you back. _He_ hasn’t fucked the Emperor.”

Izumi groans, and pulls the blankets up and over his head.


	44. Chapter 44

The walls are thin, but that isn’t Natsume’s problem when it comes to sleeping. 

At some point, while Leo and Tsukasa are whispering and arguing about whether or not Leo is allowed to masturbate, he rolls off of the bed and to the floor. It’s cooler down there, which is both a blessing and a curse. He was overly warm a moment ago, swaddled in a rough blanket, but now, he’s almost too-chilled, and he huddles there, crawling underneath the bed itself with a stolen pillow to try and find some solace. 

He hears Tsukasa call his name at one point to check on him, but Natsume ignores him, pursuing sleep instead. 

He knows he sleeps, but it’s no good. The darkness is fuzzy, wet, cold, uncomfortably hot, all of those things together, pressing in on him. The dreams he has are dark and impossible to distinguish anything coherent from, until dawn breaks, pouring light slowly in through the uncovered window. 

Tsumugi—glasses gone, hair bloodied, hands bloodied, everything bloody, pale and limp in the Emperor’s grasp. The Emperor—white and pristine, platinum hair in his face until he tosses Tsumugi to the ground like a broken doll, and wipes his bloodied hands on a handkerchief before fixing his hair as if nothing out of the ordinary just happened—

_“Come here, my little songbird.”_

_Natsume bolts awake so abruptly that he knocks his head on the bed slats above him, wide-eyed and trembling. He stares upward, feeling the sweat roll down his back and the tears down his face, feeling his entire body shake._

“Natsume?” Tsukasa’s voice is muddled from sleep, and the bed shifts above Natsume’s head. “Are you awake?” 

Natsume slinks back further underneath the blankets, his breath hiccuping. “Sorry,” he whispers, hoping he’s heard. “I…bad dream. Sorry, it’s early, go back to sleep.” 

“Can’t go back to sleep,” Leo yawns, rolling over to look down at Natsume. “Not when the kid who sees the future looks so scared. What’s wrong? Can we stop it?”

Natsume stares back at him, still wide-eyed and trembling, but not entirely seeing. “I…it..it was just a dream.” If he says that enough, maybe it’ll be true. His hands are sweaty, and he grips at his blanket in hopes they’ll stop being like that. 

Tsukasa shuts his eyes, rakes a hand back through his hair, and slowly slides out of bed. “I should get Mika.”

Leo drapes himself over the edge of the bed, gently squeezing Natsume’s shoulder. “What happened?” he asks again, a little more urgently. “Do your dreams come true sometimes? Mine do, when I dream about what we’re going to have for lunch the next day, but this seems different. Kid, go get Mika.”

Natsume jerks underneath the touch, and promptly slithers further underneath the bed, hopefully out of reach this time.

Tsukasa spares a last, worried glance at the sight before quietly slipping from the room to walk next door, knocking on the door gingerly. “Captain?” he calls softly. “Captain, I hate to wake you, but if we could borrow His Excellency for a moment…” 

“No,” Arashi says on a yawn, but gently shakes Mika awake. “Go, do something magic.”

“Nooo…” Mika moans, rolling to the side to stuff his face into the pillow of Izumi’s hair. “Too warm. Comfy.”

Izumi growls, kicking him half-heartedly. “’s fucking early, get it over with and come back,” he mumbles.

Mika growls back, thoroughly disgruntled, but he slowly pries himself away and out of bed, grabbing _only_ his cloak to wrap himself up in as he stomps to the door, hair entirely askew. Tsukasa looks appropriately terrified when he opens it and glowers up at him. “ _What._ ”

“It’s, ah, His Excellency Natsume.”

Mika grumbles, pulling the door shut, and heads next door—or rather, only barely steps into the room before the thick, stifling weight of magic hits him as if he just ran into a brick wall. His eyes water, and he winces, lingering in the doorway for a moment before he forces himself forward. “Ow, ow, ow,” he mutters, rubbing a hand across his eyes as he drops down next to the bed. “Natsu, what—“ 

Natsume bolts out from underneath the bed like a frightened cat, latching onto Mika’s waist as he trembles. Mika bites back a squawk of surprise, forcing himself to settle, even though his eyes burn just looking at Natsume. Unintentional magic from Nightcloaks, that’s a new one, and it’s baffling even regular humans can’t feel the unpleasant pressure of it that makes him want to flee immediately. “Shh, shh, you’re fine, ’s fine.” It’s probably _not_ fine, but what the hell can _he_ do? 

Natsume lifts his head from his lap, staring at him, obviously terrified, then lurches up to whisper in his ear. Mika hesitates, then looks over to Leo. “He, uh. Says he keeps hearin’ stuff about you, and it’s freakin’ him out, so maybe you should…go next door for a bit and we’ll see if it stops.” 

“I was trying to help,” Leo protests. “I’m worried about him...”

He shrugs, then grabs a cloak, tugging it around himself and hustling out of the room. “Feel better! If there’s anything I can do, let me know!”

He heads next door, pacing rather than sitting, full of nervous energy. Arashi yawns hugely, not bothering to cover up his nudity. “Everything all right, your Highness?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t know. He’s acting--really weird. Scary. I have a feeling something really bad is happening and he’s not telling us about it.”

“Too early for this shit,” Izumi mutters, still half-asleep, and he rolls over, just as naked as Arashi, and stretches out a hand. “Come here. Stop pacing, you’re making me hurt watching you. Wizards do this sometimes, it’s not that abnormal.” 

“You didn’t see him. He looked like something was eating him from the inside.”

Leo’s brow furrows, but he sits on the bed, taking Izumi’s hand and cuddling up to him. “I’m scared, it looked really bad. He was crying like...he didn’t even know he was crying. Just staring, with the tears running down, and he was making weird noises all night. Guh, cuddle me please, you smell nice. Like men.”

Izumi grunts, and drags Leo down more thoroughly, squashing him down into the bed. “Wizards,” he sleepily repeats, “are like this. Especially the really strong ones. Their magic is strange and scary, and sometimes even they can’t seem to really keep a hold on it. Mm, tell him, Arashi. It almost sounds like some of the attacks Mika’s had before…” 

“Wizards are...” Arashi pauses for a huge yawn. “Real delicate. And grumpy. And weird, and they cry about stuff sometimes and you’re _not_ supposed to ask about it.”

“Sounds like women,” Leo mutters, tucking his face into Izumi’s chest. “You sounded like you had a fun night. Tsukasa wouldn’t even let me masturbate.”

“Sounds like a prissy rich boy problem, but okay,” Izumi yawns, rubbing a hand down Leo’s back. “You should’ve done it anyway. Sorry if we kept you up. Mmn, but yeah, what Arashi said. Wizards just _do_ that. Weird little things, all of them…” 

Just as he starts to doze again, the door swings open again, and Mika quietly steps back inside, sans Natsume. He looks ruffled, shaken, almost like he’s itchy in his own skin, and he doesn’t quite seem able to look at Leo. “He passed out again,” he softly says, rubbing at his own arms through his cloak. “I don’t know how good he’s gonna be at travelin’ today, but I know we gotta. Maybe…maybe give him a couple of hours. _Kara,_ can I talk to you?” 

Arashi sighs, abandoning the idea of getting any more sleep. He rolls out of the bed, yanking his trousers and shirt on, tossing his cloak over his shoulders. “Lead me where you need me, _amaka_. Do I need my sword?”

“Uh uh, I just need to talk to you.” Mika steps back out into the hall, pulling the door shut after them and tugging him next door. “In here, it’s okay if Tsukasa hears,” he quietly says, because at least a thin wall is better than nothing. Tsukasa sits on the edge of the bed, bleary-eyed and obviously exhausted, and Natsume is passed out on the bed, a tiny ball amidst a pile of blankets. “Natsume’s prophecies are always correct,” he says once the doors shut. “And this one…well. I tried to silence his mind a bit, which I hope was the right thing t’do, ‘cause he was so scared, and that’s when he went back to sleep. But before that…I got some details.” He hesitates. “He saw Tsumugi die. By the Emperor’s hand. Which…is real bad. Apparently, only Tsumugi knows how to kill him.” 

Arashi’s body goes still. That happens in the beginning of a battle, when his mind starts preparing to fight. “Okay. First things first, plan of action. Questions-- _can_ his prophecies be changed, and _when_ is this going to happen? Fuck, that Makoto boy is at High Harbor too, isn’t he...”

“From what Master told me about him before, I…I don’t think we can change anythin’. I don’t know when it’s gonna happen, either, Natsu didn’t say, so maybe he doesn’t know.” Mika bites his lip, folding his arms across his chest. “That’s not all, though. He apparently saw a lot of Leo in it, too, but…he was a lot more vague about it, and when I tried to get him to clarify…”

“He wouldn’t stop shaking,” Tsukasa quietly confirms, hands on his knees. 

“He kept acting like he was still seein’ it play out in front of him right then and there…whatever it was. That’s why I sent Leo out.” Mika shivers, shaking his head. “Scary. I…maybe I should try to contact Master, he might know what to do…” 

Arashi chews on his bottom lip, trying to think. “I’ve never worked with wizards that could see the future before,” he admits. “I don’t really know what to do. I’m used to the ones that can spot berserkers, but this...”

He shakes his head. “Right. I think probably...the best thing we can do is continue as we have, and keep the prince _safe_. I’ll have a talk with Izumi. We can’t afford to let any personal things get in the way of this, not now. If the Emperor is still gaining power, we’ll have to hope that your master is already going through a plan he’s got in place. We leave as soon as everyone’s ready.”

“He’s probably gonna be out for another hour at least,” Mika apologetically says, glancing back to the bed again. Natsume sleeps, but with his brow furrowed, hands clutching too-tightly at the blankets. “There’s never been another wizard on record that can see the future like he can. Minor predictions, sure, but full events that always come true…” He bites his lip again. “It doesn’t make sense, though. The Emperor…he should be real weak right now. _He_ wasn’t injured, but the Faerie was. They’re bonded real strong, it should affect him a lot.” 

“Obviously not,” Tsukasa points out, “if he has the time to also agree to His Highness’s ideas and toy with him.”

“Yeah, that’s weird, too,” Mika admits, frowning. “Master always talked about how strong the Emperor and Faerie’s bond was—like, it was almost as good as his and the Demon King’s. That means the Emperor…well, _kara_ , you know how Master was, he barely wanted to touch anyone that wasn’t Rei, ‘cuz it felt wrong. Definitely didn’t wanna have sex with no one else—so if the Emperor’s running off doing that…something ain’t right…” Mika heaves a sigh, shutting his eyes when they start to ache. “I ain’t smart enough for this, I wish Master was here…”

“He’s not human, though, right?” Arashi asks quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed, tugging Mika into his arms. “Like, we _know_ a few half-breeds, we know how different they are from regular people. Even whatever my great-great whatevers were, that’s let me survive stuff that no one could, and that guy who rescued me in the ocean, he’s way, _way_ less human. Obviously, the Emperor isn’t much human, or he’d be affected more. That makes sense, right? I don’t know much about magic...”

Mika shakes his head as he flops against Arashi’s chest, curling his arms around his neck. “Maybe,” he admits. “But half-breeds are usually way more affected by bonds and things like that,” Mika softly says. “Even weak ones turn to distraction, if they know they’re there…nnnn, I dunno either, this is all real stressful.” 

Behind them, Natsume shifts, whimpering in his sleep, reaching out with one hand to grab at the back of Arashi’s cloak. 

Arashi sighs, then lifts Natsume from the bed, settling him on his lap. “Here you go, darling, I’m warm and strong, that’s nice when you’re having a nightmare, eh? Shh, you’re fine, I’ve got you...Someone’s going to take care of you, I promise.” How many times have his men come across children in a village that’s been devastated by the Inglings, whimpering and crying just like this after seeing their loved ones die? How many times has he heard them in the middle of the night and been drawn, helpless, to hold them like this?

“He’s so little,” Mika quietly says, scooting over to make room for Natsume to burrow his way into Arashi’s chest. He lifts a hand, carefully pushing Natsume’s hair out of his face before he hesitantly adds, “His magic…it’s a lot like mine. They call it aberrant magic, or ‘deviant’ magic if they’re tryin’ to really insult you. The stuff they know nothin’ about, basically, and can’t teach a class about, so they can’t control it properly. ’s why they’ll never give me a Nightcloak…and why Natsu wouldn’t have one, if Rei hadn’t done it himself. We can’t let the Emperor get to him, or he’ll…do some really bad things, I know.” 

“How bad are we talking?” Arashi asks, as quietly as he can. “Bad like it’ll be difficult to recover? Or bad like it would be a mercy to kill him first? I think that’s the sort of thing we should all decide before we ride against him.”

“ _Kara’s_ stone cold,” Mika says with a nervous laugh. “Probably just bad like…difficult to recover, but I dunno. I know a lot of people wanted to kill me, after he was through.”

“You’re next in line for a cuddle,” Arashi says firmly, locking eyes with Mika, his hand stroking through Natsume’s hair. “Ugh, this is all so confusing. I’m used to being a commander, but it’s easy to make moves in the field when you know what your enemy wants. With the Emperor...he’s the enemy of a lot of people we’re working with, but I don’t know what he wants, or what he’s going to do. I don’t think in wheels like these people.”

“I know. That’s why I’m just…really hopin’ that Master’s plans with Rei are workin’ out,” Mika says softly. “Master always said that the Emperor was simple, though. The only thing he wants is everything everyone else has, because it’s the only way he’ll ever have it himself. But that doesn’t sound simple to me at all, just scary.” 

“And at the risk of sounding like one of those wishy-washy idiots that can’t make up their mind...wanting what everyone else has isn’t a punishable offense,” Arashi admits. “I mean, what he does is bad, but...I support Leo for the throne because he’s the next in line, and he’s got plans for fixing things. But I don’t know anything about what would be good to rule wizards, you know? Or who should be in charge.”

“But the way he wants things is by taking things away from everyone else,” Mika says, glancing aside. “Like…wizards can’t have lovers, but _he_ can, with another wizard even, because that’s what he wants and he likes to lord it over other people. That kind of thing. I don’t really know what would be good, either, but I know it ain’t him.” He hesitates, glancing warily to Tsukasa, as if he doesn’t want to say more with him in the room, then shuts up with a shrug. 

“Right,” Tsukasa exhales, rising to his feet, and grabbing his cloak. “I’m going to start getting the horses ready. Even if Natsume is still asleep, one of us can carry him.” 

“I’ll carry him, I don’t mind.” Arashi lifts Natsume with one arm, and gives them a brief smile. “Neigh doesn’t mind carrying double, and I can always switch off with Izumi, Vale is enormous. Tsukasa, will you be in charge of leading Natsume’s horse?”

“Of course, Captain…if you’re in charge of making sure Izumi and His Highness ever get out of bed,” Tsukasa wearily says, shaking his head as he finishes packing up his things and strides from the room. 

Mika watches him leave, then his gaze slides back to Arashi. “I think the Demon King’s gonna try to take over the whole Academy. Master wouldn’t say that, but whenever I asked, he jus’ didn’t answer. And I think…” He hesitates again. “He might try to take the crown, too. I didn’t wanna say nothin’ because I don’t know for sure, but I know he’s real mad with the king’s bloodline.” 

“That...” Arashi grimaces. “That would be a problem. Because we’re currently rallying an army in support of a different candidate, you know. And honestly, wizards are a law unto themselves, but if the Demon King tried to take the crown?” He spreads his hands, licking his lips. “I’d have a problem with that myself. Hell, I’d fight him myself. He’s not even from here, he’s from the Shadowlands. That’s a foreign invasion.”

Mika shifts uncomfortably, looking away. “This is why I didn’t wanna say anythin’,” he murmurs. “But some of the stuff Natsu was babblin’ on about…I dunno. I mean, I don’t think it’d be such a bad thing for a wizard to be on the throne…” 

“Does he know anything about ruling, though?” Arashi asks. “I’m a Captain, I have thousands of men under my command. I want to serve someone that cares where to send them, you know? And all anyone’s told me is that the Demon King only cares about revenge. And speaking for the Army, because someone has to, I don’t think the whole Army would want to follow someone like that. They might take over, institute martial law.”

“I…I don’t know, I don’t know anythin’,” Mika nervously says, holding up his hands as he slinks back a bit. “A-all I know is I jus’ wanna be able to be with you safely, without gettin’ you killed or me tossed into a torture chamber. I like the prince and everythin’, and I wanna believe he’ll fix everything the way he’s been sayin’, but if he supports the Emperor, I…I dunno. This is stressful, I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.” 

“Fair enough, me either,” Arashi says with a sigh. He lifts Natsume, holding him against his chest as he walks downstairs. The landlady tries to talk to him, and he ignores her, heading for the stables. His feet stop at the threshold, and he asks Mika, almost conversationally, “Is Izumi up yet? I don’t know that I can saddle Neigh with him in my arms, heh.”

“I’ll go get them,” Mika sighs, raking a hand back through his hair as he huddles underneath his cloak and makes his way back to the room, knocking on the door before cracking it open. “Izumi, we’re…aww, c’mon.” 

“You said we had an hour or two,” Izumi grouses, not removing his hand from Leo’s pants or his mouth from his neck. “Give me a break.”

“Natsu’s sleepin’ real deep, so that’ll put us too far behind if we wait for him to wake up,” Mika dryly says, folding his arms. “Get up, _kara_ needs your help, and Kasa can’t touch Vale.”

Izumi grumbles as he rolls away, looking _thoroughly_ agitated. “Fine, I’ll be down in a minute, let me get dressed.” 

Mika eyes him skeptically before he just flops against the doorframe, waiting. “Nope, I don’t trust y’all.” 

“You’re the untrustworthy one,” Leo grouses, reaching down to squeeze himself hard before standing up. “You promised us a couple hours, and you had him all last night. Super rude. But fine, fine, let’s go.”

“Someone’s gotta put his mouth to use,” Mika flippantly says before kicking the door wide open, grabbing Arashi’s bag, and flouncing off. 

“He vacillates wildly between being a fluttery bird terrified of everything that moves, and being like this,” Izumi deadpans, rolling out of bed to get dressed. “It’s so fun for me.” 

“You didn’t seem to mind having fun with him last night,” Leo teases, pinching Izumi’s ass. “Hey. Whatever happens...” He fumbles for words, but they don’t come, and he shrugs. It’s easier to look away and pretend he isn’t grateful for the interruption, but maybe that’s just because his body isn’t entirely interested in Izumi trying to prove with sex that he’s not giving up too much of himself to other people. “I love you.”

“Saying things like that out of nowhere makes it sound like you’re trying to go and die,” Izumi bluntly says, grabbing Leo around the waist to kiss him soundly, open doors be damned. No one’s bothering them yet, after all. “I love you, too, but don’t fucking say it like that.” 

Leo smiles faintly, leaning against Izumi’s chest. “Everyone you know is incredible,” he says softly. “Arashi can’t die. You can’t die. Mika’s a necromancer. Shu is a Nightcloak. Rei is a demon. Natsume sees the future. Everyone you know is a lot more interesting than I am. Just...don’t get bored with me, yeah? You seemed like you were kind of...going somewhere else, when we were fooling around.”

“You’re seeing things that aren’t there,” Izumi gently scolds, toying with the end of Leo’s thoroughly mussed ponytail. “If I’m distracted, it’s not because of anyone else. It’s because everything is stressful right now and I would prefer going back to bed instead of having a million things to worry about. It was a lot simpler, when all I had to worry about was whether or not I could convince you to go to your classes on time.” 

“A daily losing battle,” Leo recalls fondly, stealing a kiss from Izumi’s mouth. “Nnh, I suppose we should go, the world is collapsing and everything. Want me to tell you I love you again?”

“Yes. Before we’re in the public eye again, and you need to be more obnoxiously reserved.” 

The Emperor will be watching. That fact strikes Leo firmly, and he takes in a breath, banishing the thought of those cold blue eyes, dancing with glee. “I love you. In public or in private, no matter what I’m doing, I love you.”

“Good.” Izumi huffs out a soft breath, and gives Leo another, light squeeze before releasing him and scooping up his cloak, fastening it around Leo’s shoulders. “In case it rains again today. A king can’t look like a wet rat.” 

“A wet rat _king_.”

“No. No wet rats.” 

“Fine, build your rat king a home.” Leo adjusts his cloak, tugging the hood up over his hair. “We should have a place we can run away after I became king. A little house. I’ll ditch all responsibilities every once in a while, and we’ll just live like normal people. We can play peasant!”

“I’ll just drag you up North. Probably would feel like the same thing to you,” Izumi says, not unkindly, and shoulders both of their bags, giving the room a last check-over before leading the way downstairs. He ignores a last-ditch attempt from a woman to bat her eyelashes at him, and heads directly to the stable. “Is he going to stay sleeping like that?” he asks Arashi curiously, setting his things down to throw Neigh’s saddle on for him. “Wizards are so weird…oh, come here, also. Your, ah, neck.” 

Arashi grunts, leaning his head to the side, presenting his neck. “I was carrying the kid in front of it to hide,” he admits. “Please, I don’t want people here to goddamn talk, they do that enough without me. And...if you don’t mind, I’d rather you get the horses out, I hate that stable. It’s...moldy.”

“Yeah, yeah, mold’s no good for the skin,” Izumi murmurs, briefly resting a hand against Arashi’s neck and pulling it away after only a few seconds with it entirely free of tell-tale bruising. “Wait outside with everyone, Kasa and I will handle it.” 

A few moments later, and Izumi comes out with a pair of horses in each hand, Tsukasa with the his own and Natsume’s. “Let’s get out of this hellhole,” Izumi says, passing Tempo off to Leo and holding Neigh still for Arashi. “If you get sick of carrying him, pass him off to me.” 

“He’s fine. It reminds me of the cat I had as a child, honestly,” Arashi says fondly, stepping up and swinging onto his horse.

A door opens nearby, and Arashi catches a glimpse of a face, hears a call-- “Arashi! That can’t be--”

He leaps forward, heels digging into Neigh’s sides as the man stands in the doorway, looking startled. Neigh leaps into a gallop, frisky from the suddenly dry weather, hooves pounding the muddy road as she shoots off.

Leo blinks, wiping a fleck of mud off of his cheek. “I guess we’re going?” he asks Izumi, eyebrows raised.

“Yep,” Mika says, scrabbling up the side of his own horse and following after Arashi in short order, robes whipping behind him. 

Izumi shrugs a little, and pulls himself into Vale’s saddle even as he moodily sidesteps, uninterested in anything but food. _Sorry, boy. You’ll have to see this place one more time today._ “I suppose we are, Milord,” he wryly says. “Gods, I’m so glad I like where I grew up.” 

“I like the Capital,” Leo objects, keeping pace with Izumi. “I just don’t like most of the people in it right now.”

“Same,” Tsukasa pipes up. “Ah, I really wish I could send a missive there. Being so disconnected feels wrong…” 

“We’ll get news of it when it’s useful,” Izumi dismisses, and spurs Vale forward. “Let’s worry about one thing at a time.” 

“Nonsense, I’m good at worrying about at least twelve things at a time,” Leo assures him, keeping pace on Tempo. “It’s a skill that I’ve mastered--wow, Arashi really can ride fast when he wants to, huh?”

“He’s got a fast horse. Which, actually, gives me a good idea.” Izumi pulls level with Tsukasa, smile glittering. “Let me borrow Fianna later today.”

Tsukasa blinks back at him. “What?” 

“Shh, just let me. If you’re worried about riding Vale, trade with His Highness here.”

“That’s…I’d like an explanation, at least—“

“Because she’s as fast as they come, and I need a fast horse. And your bow, you’re letting me borrow that as well. I have a date, you see.” 

“I…I’m afraid I don’t see at all, and I really do dislike when you smile at me like that, it makes me very uncomfortable—“

“Because your dick is hard, probably. Don’t argue with me, just trust me.” 

“Tsukasa, let him do it,” Leo says, with a hint of the firm resolve of a king in his voice, and an equally sweet smile. “If Izumi’s got an errand, that means you and me can ride together for a while...unless you really want to avoid me--is that what you’re saying? Huh? _Is that what you’re saying, that you hate me?_ This is _definitely_ because of your calcium deficiency.”

“I—I don’t even know what that could possibly mean!” Tsukasa blurts out, thoroughly flustered now, but he nods all the same. “Fine, fine, whatever you need, I just wish any of you would explain _anything_ to me at any given point—“

“It’s so cute that you think I care,” Izumi hums, reaching over to slap Tsukasa’s back. “In the meantime, let’s relax and have a good ride.” 

“I’m going to have to improve the education of children in my country when I become king,” Leo says very seriously to Izumi. “They don’t even know what calcium is. Or its deficiency. Quite dangerous.”

“That sounds like a very useful addition to our laws, Milord. Definitely put that as a top priority.” 

“Certainly. I can’t think of a _thing_ more important for our future.”


	45. Chapter 45

The Demon King takes the Capital within a day, but the news doesn’t spread. 

How could it? There seems to be a general collective of _relief_ from the wizards there, which sets the Emperor’s teeth on edge. There’s no solace to be found there, no support, with every single tie the Academy has to the crown cut off in an instant, the Demon King’s message loud and clear: _Follow me, or be imprisoned._

With the Academy so neatly underneath Rei’s thumb as well, courtesy of him forcing Eichi on a wild goose chase for a solid day and a half, Eichi finds himself furiously trying to catch up. Rei’s methods are thorough, and he’s powerful enough at current that Eichi _has_ to take a step back. There’s no explosions. There’s no murder, no torturing. Just a quiet, firm hand, and a gentle, yet threatening smile: _Follow me, or be imprisoned._

Eichi thinks not. 

A battle might be lost, but not the war, as far as he’s concerned. Rei deliberately dangles bait in front of him, of course—the lure of a captured Tori, of _Wataru_ , most of all. Eichi doesn’t bite, not when Rei’s got Shu at his hip, and they’re fucking like disgusting rabbits, making Rei stronger and stronger by the damned day. Time to think will make this easier…or perhaps, more than that, time to gain leverage. 

And so, Eichi stays in the West, against Yuzuru’s frantic advice otherwise. 

An _interesting_ rally takes place, gathering most of the main holdings in the West to, apparently, listen to a pair of wizards talk about supporting the heir apparent to the throne. Eichi lingers in the audience, bemused. One he recognizes, the scrappy little crow from the South that he’s never been able to tolerate, but the other…a little thing, made more apparent by how exhausted he is. His power seems strange, in a way that Eichi can’t quite name, and he seems vaguely familiar, but…oh well. Either way,he’s sharp-tongued and forceful, setting the stage nicely for the guest of honor himself: Prince Leo. 

Ah, he doesn’t know, does he?

To think that the prince might be privy to expedited information is laughable, Eichi supposes, if he doesn’t have the right tools. Watching the West rally around him is interesting, but more interesting is simply watching _him._

How annoying, to be distracted by a mere human, but he’s never been one to ignore all compulsions. “I want to know where they’re staying,” Eichi says to Yuzuru tugging his cloak more securely about himself in the throng of humans, and he shivers in the damp weather. Earlier, it had been dry and sunny, and now it’s raining again. Mountains are no good. “So I can inform him of what’s going on in the Capital. I think he might be interested.” 

“Yes, your Excellency.”

Yuzuru is half-mad with concern for Tori, but in his master’s absence, an order from Eichi is as good as what he needs, and he obeys as quickly as possible. Less than three hours later, he manages to deliver Eichi to the front door of an Inn, and says quietly, “The third floor, Excellency. If going in the front door, it’s the room up the stairs on the second left. If by window, it’s the one with the green-tinted light from the jade shade.”

“Thank you, good boy.” Eichi pauses, and considers what the kind thing to do is. He reaches out, patting Yuzuru’s cheek. “I won’t let anything happen to Tori,” he softly says. “And the Demon King has a gentle hand, so I doubt he’s even as much as bruised. Worry a bit less.” 

“If I thought none of that were true, Excellency, I would already be attempting to reach his side.” Yuzuru gives him a nod, but his small smile is grateful nonetheless. “Will you be requiring my services for the rest of the evening in any capacity?”

“No, I don’t think so. I’ll be having a reasonable amount of fun. Have a nice evening!” 

Eichi lets himself into the inn, which is bustling with dinner patrons, clean and bright but conveniently crowded. How kind of them not to notice him as he drifts through, which means it’s incredibly easy to reach the stairs, take them to the third floor, and—second left? Excellent, very easy.

He leans against the door for a moment, listening. Not a peep from another person, how nice, and not a single magical signature—at least, in this room. Rampant, just a room down, is the strange, dark energy of Shu’s pet bird, and with him, the redheaded wizard he doesn’t recognize. And so, he lightly knocks upon the door, perhaps a bit _too_ interested in the reaction he’s bound to get.

There’s a rustling sound, then another. Then, silence. Then another rustling sound, and a candle flickers into life, the warm glow filtering out underneath the door. Then, slowly, the door opens, revealing the candlelit form of Leo, looking up at Eichi with large green eyes, hair loose around his shoulders, not wearing a stitch of clothing. “I knew you’d come,” he says quietly, and opens the door farther, heart thudding in his throat.

Eichi pauses, smiles, and pushes his way inside. 

“Did you?” It’s peculiar how the tension he’s been holding in his shoulders dissolves when he’s in this room. Eichi doesn’t know how to feel about that. He does, however, close the door behind him firmly, and pull his hood down, tossing out his hair as he reaches down, catching a few strands of Leo’s hair to toy with it. “Then word travels better than I thought up here in the middle of nowhere.” 

Leo reaches out, and flips the latch shut on his door. Then he covers Eichi’s hand with his own, staring up unblinkingly. “I haven’t had any news. I just knew you’d come.”

“That’s an odd thing to say.” Eichi’s eyes lid, and he sucks in a breath. Well. Compulsions are compulsions, after all, but this one is frustrating, niggling at the back of his mind, made a dozen times more difficult when Leo stares at him with enormous green eyes. He takes a step forward, grabs Leo by the arm, and pulls him around to shove him into the door, bending down in the next instant to crush their lips together. 

Leo feels his body go limp, knowing Eichi will hold him up, arching up against him as he meets the kiss fiercely, biting and sucking at Eichi’s lips, opening his own to let Eichi inside to ravage him. He groans, low and throaty, reaching up to grab at his hair. His grasping hands aren’t kind. If anything, he pulls harder than he ever would on Izumi’s hair, so hard he gets the leverage to wrap his legs around Eichi’s waist, fine fabric and rough fastenings rubbing across his soft inner thighs.

Eichi hisses against that soft mouth, biting Leo’s lower lip until he tastes blood. He draws back, tongue flicking out to lick up that sharp, metallic taste that tries to escape down Leo’s chin, and he hefts him up as if he weighs nothing, away from the door, tossed down to the bed in a heap instead. 

_This wasn’t in my plans_ , he’d like to point out, but, well. Leo seems to be a frightfully addictive anomaly. Once, and it’s fun, twice, like this, and it’s bordering inconvenient. Eichi follows after him nonetheless, shedding his cloak, already yanking at the fastenings of his trousers. “Spread your legs,” he lowly orders, grabbing one of Leo’s knees and pushing it down to the bed before he can even comply. 

“What does it matter?” Leo breathes, pupils blown wide in the darkness, struggling only slightly, just because it feels _better_ to do it against this man, this man that makes it feel like fire flows through his veins. He arches up, reaching for Eichi’s trousers, yanking one of the laces clean out of its holes in his lust. “You’re going to have me the way you want anyway. Have I--been behind your eyes, the last time you had someone else?” _Or was it just me affected like that?_

Eichi’s eyes lid, and he shoves Leo’s hand away, grabbing his wrist instead to pin it down over his head. “Adorable, that you think I’ve had the time,” he murmurs, shifting closer, kneeling between Leo’s legs to keep them spread with the width of his own hips. He finishes unlacing his trousers, unbuckling his belt, and rips open one of the pouches tied to it open to fish out a bottle of oil. He frees his cock, barely taking the time to even push his trousers down, and dumps the oil over it, slicking it down the aching length with the palm of his hand. Maybe, maybe if he does this, he can focus on something that _isn’t_ the idea of how good his cock had felt last time, buried deep into Leo’s ass. 

Maybe.

He hikes up Leo’s hips, and wastes no time. The head of his cock presses against that tight hole, and Eichi shoves forward with a breathy grunt, bending forward, weight pressing down to work his cock inside, covering Leo’s body with his own. Just the head takes effort, but he refuses to go slow, not when it’s _easy_ after that, no matter how Leo’s body twitches and clenches around every centimeter of him, almost desperate to refuse him. “Be good,” he breathlessly orders, his hair swinging forward as he shoves in harder. “You remember how much you liked it last time.” 

Leo claps a hand over his mouth, eyes bulging as he whimpers, biting into his palm as hard as he needs to, thighs spreading so wide that each knee touches the bed on either side of Eichi. He drops the hand, panting hard, hands coming up to grasp at Eichi’s back, moving to his chest, almost trying to push him away. “It’s--too much,” he pleads, tears pricking at his eyes, liquid, roiling heat burning inside of him. “It’s too big, I can’t--there’s n-no way, I--”

His voice cuts off into a moan so loud he claps his hand over his mouth again, frantically sucking at the air when his cock twitches hard at a deep thrust, making him feel like nothing so much as a doll, a puppet, something solely created for Eichi’s amusement.

Eichi ignores him. It’s satisfying to tune Leo out in favor of leaning back, avoiding his grabbing, pushing hands, and to just grab him by those lean hips, yanking him against him, down onto his cock when he shoves in deep, _finally_ buried all the way inside. He exhales a hot, ragged breath, his cheeks flushed as he rocks forward languidly now, pleased now that he’s got his cock buried in someone that feels so _good_ , like—“It’s meant to be in there,” Eichi breathes, loosening his hold, aware he’s left little bruises where he grabbed Leo’s hips so hard, but uncaring. His hands splay out over Leo’s ribs, petting him, stroking up to his nipples, which stand out as rock hard nubs on Leo’s chest. “Ahh, see, you like this.” 

Leo shakes his head, but at some point, the frantic gesture turns into a nod. His head thunks back against the bed, and he lets his hips cant up off the bed, meeting each of Eichi’s perfect thrusts with every delicious rut of his hips. His chest shoves up against Eichi’s hands, and he grabs at the blankets, almost frustrated. “How...is it,” he groans, reaching down to absently stroke his own cock, just for the scintillating sensation it provides, “that you know... _just_ where to touch me...hnn, it’s so big, last time I couldn’t--ride properly--”

“And now look at you, complaining to make a show of it,” Eichi lowly taunts, dropping back down onto his elbows, using the leverage to better shove in, savoring the way the bed creeks when he braces his knees and grinds in hard enough that it takes his breath away. Leo moves against him beautifully, and Eichi’s pinches one of those perfect nipples slowly as he sucks on the side of his neck, leaving a dark, obvious bruise in his mouth’s wake. “I barely even need to train you,” he breathes. “You already know what I like, what a good boy.” 

“You could...tell me more,” Leo suggests on a deep exhale, rocking up to get more of Eichi inside of him, chest aching and throbbing with every pinch and tweak. “Teach me...what you like...and I can decide...to give it to you, or...misbehave...”

His voice doesn’t even sound familiar to his own ears, and Leo drags his nails down Eichi’s back, struggling to part his legs farther when it already feels deep enough inside him to bruise, when it’s already too-tight, too-hot, too little oil and too much thick girth stretching him so wide he feels as if he’ll never be the same, his breath coming in sobbing little gasps.

“Maybe later, when I’m done getting off in you.” 

It’s a mindless need that drives him, and his mouth is hot on Leo’s again, silencing any of his protests and the breathy noises that keep coming from his throat. Eichi kisses him hard, grabbing his face in one hand so he can’t pull away when he thrusts up roughly, fucking him with little more than the need to feel how _good_ it is in mind. Leo is achingly tight around him, squeezing and squirming, making noises that he still can feel against his tongue, and Eichi’s eyes lid, his thoughts unfocusing when he shoves him to the bed to take exactly what he wants. 

Eichi’s cock throbs hard, twitching inside of him, and he shoves in with a low, rumbling groan, buried to the hilt, fucking in shallowly through the pulses of his orgasm when he spills. It’s suddenly _much_ slicker inside, a lot easier to move, and he can’t help but languidly thrust in a few more times, savoring that with a breathless sigh of relief. 

If Leo could think now, he’d think about how strange it is that he’s here, splay-legged under the Emperor of the Academy, immediately letting the man fuck into him as fast as he can get it. A cracked, throaty moan leaks out of his mouth, and his hands fall back to the bed, just letting Eichi rut into him as much as he wants. “Are you...is that...” 

He swallows hard, his entire body shuddering, hands pressing against his own stomach, blinking tears out of his eyes. “A-ah...you’re still...so big in me, I can feel it, I...I can feel you breathing...”

Eichi tilts his head back, blowing a sweaty strand of hair out of his face. “Sort of amazing that it fits, isn’t it, with how little you are,” he lowly teases, dragging a hand down Leo’s stomach. He presses down absently, almost expecting to feel himself inside. Maybe if he fucked Leo hard enough, he could. “You’re not going to come for me? I’m not pulling it out until you do.” 

Leo lets out a whimper when Eichi presses down on him, his toes curling in sheer overstimulation as he gasps for breath. “Y-you came too fast,” he accuses breathlessly, squeezing down out of instinct and immediately regretting it when the thick intrusion into his body makes him cry out. “Nnnh, you came...too much, I’m...I’m gonna swell up or something, gods--it’s too much, please...” Never mind that his cock is so hard it feels swollen, the tip flushed deep red, dripping a steady stream of fluid onto his belly.

“It’s not my fault that I saw you and _had_ to fuck you,” Eichi murmurs, sliding his fingers back through Leo’s hair, brushing the sweaty strands of it away from his neck to better latch his mouth onto that sensitive skin, biting, then sucking. His fingers drag down, avoiding Leo’s cock altogether, but rubbing through the slick, sticky precome on his stomach before sliding to where they’re connected instead. He traces that stretched, aching hole, feeling how Leo twitches around his cock even more, and he shifts, curious. “I wonder…can you fit even more in here? Mmn, I know, you’re s~o full, but if you keep squeezing like that, I’m gonna get hard again and have to come again.”

Leo laughs nervously, his cock hardening nonetheless, chest tightening, nipples suddenly twinging when Eichi teases him like that. “Y-you got another prick in your pocket?” he asks, eyes unfocusing, Eichi’s image blurring when it’s so much, when he’s on the verge of coming but Eichi just keeps teasing him, drawing it out so long it hurts.

“Mmn, no, but—“ Eichi shifts, and that finger presses forward, wriggling in along side his cock even though Leo is already so, _so_ impossibly full. “I can improvise. You’re being such a good boy, aren’t you? No wonder you missed me, I’ll just have to keep it in you all night…” 

Leo cries out, forgetting about making noise, forgetting about anything but how much is _in him_ , how much he’s being stuffed full, his hole stretching and stinging with the added girth. He squirms, panting hard, drool trickling from his mouth, legs waving in the air with every choked groan. “N-no, pleeeeease, it’s so--it’s so much, it’s--you’re--p-please touch me, I’m so close, it hurts, it’s so much, please--”

“If you didn’t like it, wouldn’t you be begging me to stop?” Eichi taunts, but ahh, Leo is so _cute_ , and he can be merciful. His other hand drags down, his palm sliding over Leo’s cock, squeezing, cupping and stroking him as his hips given an absent thrust forward, unable to help himself when Leo squirms like that. “There,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb over the aching, dripping tip of Leo’s cock. “It’s still all in you, and I’m being nice. Give me what I want, too.” 

One touch of that hand, and Leo arches so hard he hears his back pop, mouth open in a panting, whining cry as he comes all over himself in urgent spurts, hard enough that some hits him in the chin, one spurt arching clear over his head. He collapses back to the bed, shuddering, sweating, trembling as he reaches for Eichi. “Is....is that what...is that what you want?” he whispers, blinking away tears.

“Mm, mm, good boy, good boy,” Eichi sighs, carefully pulling his fingers free—though not his cock, he’s not entirely interested in _not_ being buried in Leo just yet. He tilts his head, giving a lick to the mess that managed to hit even Leo’s chin, and then grabs his face in one hand to kiss him, shoving his tongue into his mouth before he can protest. “You taste good, don’t you?” he murmurs, combing Leo’s hair out of his face, the touch almost tender. “Ahh, this was the right decision, I knew paying you a visit would be fun.” 

Leo leans up, curling his tongue around Eichi’s, sucking softly before leaning back. “Is this...the only reason you came?” he asks, eyes hooded, a flush of delighted embarrassment creeping into his cheeks. “To see me? Ahh...I hope I’ve been worth it...”

“You’re so much more pliant this time, I wonder why.” Eichi absently taps one of Leo’s flushed cheeks before he draws back, propping himself up. “If I’m being completely honest, my home’s been taken over and I was in the West chasing absolutely _nothing_ , so you were a bright spot on my schedule. I watched your little rally today, very cute.”

“Nnh, don’t talk politics when your cock is in me,” Leo complains, squeezing down deliberately, which makes him squeak.

Eichi pauses, then shrugs. He rolls over, pulling Leo with him so he has no choice but to straddle his hips with his cock still in him. “If you do that, I’m putting you to work,” he mildly says, leaning back against the headboard as he loosens his collar with a sigh. “You’ve got me all sweaty now, honestly. It’s not like I could greet _you_ naked.” 

Leo groans when Eichi bottoms out, gravity driving him in so deep that his abdomen aches. “Ahh....what...you want me to...do your laundry or something?”

“Maybe if you were in a cute, frilly little dress,” Eichi teases, sliding his hands back up Leo’s chest to absently pull on his nipples. “I have a lot of politics to talk with you about, but if you’d rather I just keep doing this, that’s fine, too.” 

Leo huffs out a breath, leaning forward to rest his hands on Eichi’s shirt, slowly unlacing the fine material. “Nnh, if you’re gonna stay like this...what do you want to say? I changed my mind, I don’t want you to pull out.” He circles his hips, lips parted, eyes lidded, just enjoying the sensation of having Eichi inside of him, mildly startled to find that he’s right, he _does_ feel as if he belongs there.

Eichi relaxes back with a slow, pleased exhale, feeling his cock slowly harden again. His hands drag slowly down to Leo’s hips, curling there loosely, not pulling or even really supporting him, just thumbing over the jut of his hip bones appreciatively. “Good, because it’s staying in you,” he murmurs, licking his lips. “I’m concerned talking about it might make you stop what you’re doing. Unacceptable, that.” 

“I suppose that depends,” Leo murmurs, hips rocking gently, mostly concerned with getting _more_ , though his rational mind keeps trying to reassert itself. “On what...you want...eh? My friends think you’re...some kind of...evil creature, but...I want to hear it from you.”

“I’m not here to talk about what I want.” Eichi’s lips twitch into a languid smile, and his fingers _do_ tighten on Leo’s hips then, pulling him to a more appropriate angle as he thrusts up, slow and deep. “For once, I’m merely a messenger of news.” 

Leo yelps, and his cock spills a few more drops, trickling down the underside of the shaft, making him wriggle. “F-fine, what news? Hnn, you’re so, you feel, there’s so _much_ \--”

“Yes, so you’ve said.” Eichi’s fingers slide down to give Leo’s ass a swift pinch. “The Academy’s been stolen from me,” he bluntly says. “And so has your kingdom. Want me out of you now?” 

Leo shrugs. “Knew it was coming,” he admits. “Don’t go soft now that you’ve lost power, I didn’t. Demon King?”

“Oh, good, you’re delightful,” Eichi mutters, sighing as he rolls them again, shoving Leo up against the headboard, kissing the side of his neck as he slides his knees up and shoves up into him with more leverage. “Who else but him?” he growls, nipping at the lobe of Leo’s ear. “He’s got his arse on your throne, calling himself king, period, the end.” 

“Ahh!” Leo groans, wrapping his arms around Eichi’s neck, grabbing him close, rutting up against Eichi with every slick thrust. “I just--ah, fuck, that _hurts_ , you’re so deep--I just hope--he does--a good job, I’ll fuck off to the islands if he does--”

“Less delightful, try again.” Eichi grabs at the headboard, grinding in deep, panting against Leo’s hair. “I’d rather destroy every last city than listen to a word he has to say,” he breathes, shoving up hard and staying there, savoring the aching, trembling clench of Leo’s body around him. “So we’re going to do something about it, and you’re handing the Academy right back to me when I give you the throne.” 

“Unconvinced,” Leo says, panting as tears spill off his cheeks, lurching up to bite Eichi’s neck. “I don’t mind you--being the Emperor, just--hnn--we’re gonna need to change some things, if you want my supp-- _fuck_ , gods, _fuck_ , right there!”

Eichi groans, his breath ragged as he squeezing an arm tightly around Leo’s waist, holding him in place, thrusting up into him at that same angle, again, _again_ until every jerk and squirm of Leo down onto his cock quickly becomes too much. “F-fine—fine, I’ll _consider_ it, but not when I’m in you, I—“ _I can’t think straight, and that’s making me stupid._

“Shh, it’s fine, it’s fine,” Leo whispers, hardly knowing what he’s saying, only that Eichi needs him in this moment, needs to be reassured. He clings tightly, wrapping his legs around Eichi’s hips, no matter that it makes his hole sting, makes his insides cramp. “Fuck politics for just a few more minutes, yeah? Just...Fuck me like you’ve always wanted to.”

Eichi huffs out a hot breath, and gives up. 

He buries his face down into Leo’s hair, grabbing him up close, fucking up into him with long, deep strokes. _Didn’t you say last time that you thought it was creepy?_ he wants to taunt. _That I wanted a piece of you since I met you for the first time?_ But the words won’t come, and instead, grabbing Leo and kissing, biting every part of his mouth can reach seems far better. 

He doesn’t last any longer than he did the first time, which is probably for the best. Another, few thrusts and he comes with a ragged, muffled noise against Leo’s skin, spilling with a jerk of his hips, throbbing inside of him. “Now…I _know_ I can feel how full you are here,” Eichi says with a breathless laugh, his eyes lidded as his fingers drag down over Leo’s stomach. Sweat drips down from his hair, and he rakes his other hand back through it. “Too much?” 

“Always.”

Leo’s grin is shaky, but genuine as he kisses back, clinging to Eichi for dear life, feeling as if holding him tighter will make him _stay_ , will somehow change this into something more than it is. “You’re always...too much for me, heh. But I don’t exactly hate it, I guess. Mm, did you like using me to get off?”

Eichi doesn’t answer that. Instead, he gingerly shifts, hissing out a breath through his teeth when he finally bothers pulling out, his cock too over-sensitive to handle Leo squirming down on him for another minute. “You’re a problem,” he mutters. “A distracting problem.” 

Leo groans, rolling onto his side, knees tucked up to his chest. “Okay, it didn’t _really_ hurt when you were in me. I thought it did. I was wrong. _Now_ it hurts.”

“Do you need to call your little half-breed snake in here?” Eichi mildly asks, rolling onto his back and adjusting his clothes, tucking himself back into his trousers. “Barring that, I _do_ have a penchant for magic, but it seems like someone thoroughly scrubbed you down from our last encounter, as if you found it distasteful. It’s almost like you wanted to forget it.” 

“More like no one would travel with me if they thought I was under your spell,” Leo says cheerfully. “You made them all wear weird underwear for years, of course they’re mad. People love fucking, I’m pretty sure none of them would be in a rebellion mood if you just let them fuck.”

“You know, it’s a very _recent_ thing that this has become an issue,” Eichi flatly says, slapping a hand to Leo’s lower back and letting a soothing, cooling wave of magic flutter southward. It’s no healing magic, but it’s certainly more than enough to calm that unpleasant sting and ache. “Untrained wizards—and even trained wizards—rarely can be trusted under emotional duress. Do you want your kingdom on the brink of destruction daily because one of them had an exciting tumble, or worse, was denied one?” 

“If this is a recent thing,” Leo says, shivering, then relaxing when Eichi’s magic does his work, “I’m not sure it...had the desired effect. Mm, that’s nice, like fresh mint. I’m just saying...in Father’s day, wizards were considered honored. Now, all the ones I know think they’re little better than slaves. That’s not good for morale.”

“You’re dealing with a select few that have a personal issue with _me._ Your opinion has been swayed unfairly.” Eichi snorts, and instead of withdrawing his hand, he slides it up Leo’s spine, petting him like one would a cat. “Considering the company you keep, you couldn’t pick a bunch that dislikes me more. Their loss.” 

Leo’s toes curl, and he lets out a noise almost like a purr, rubbing up against Eichi’s hand. “Tell me...would you...have let Father use that weapon? Destroying all the Northerners and peasants?”

“Absolutely not. I fancy the capital and I have wizards in my employ from there. A tainted, magical wasteland isn’t what I like to visit. Come here, you’re like a small animal,” Eichi mutters, sort of mystified as he grabs Leo around the waist and rolls onto his side to drag him close. “Now, I _am_ tempted to turn it on the Demon King, but that’s a different story.” 

Leo rolls close, enjoying the petting more than he wants to admit. “Fmpfh. I have no great loyalty to him, but something like that is way too dangerous to use anywhere near people. Besides, what if he does a good job, and I get to run away and live like a cowherd or something?”

“He’s imprisoned your father and a large handful of his followers for refusing to work with him.” 

“Good, my father is an awful king. You _must_ admit that.” Leo traces his finger over Eichi’s knee, then his thigh, sketching out a design. “I mean, I’m literally gathering an army to overthrow him. No love lost.”

“I thought,” Eichi softly says, “that your whole _stance_ was not ruling a country based on revenge or senseless war. But if you’ve lost all ambitions, then I suppose I’m wasting my time here, and will need to take matters into my own hands entirely.” 

“My whole _stance_ ,” Leo growls, “is in ruling my country _for the people_ , not in snatching it from whoever owns it because it’s mine by right.” 

He rolls into a sitting position, and pokes Eichi’s chest. “I’ve been suspecting he’d do this. And I’ll give him as much chance as I gave my father to rule, because I don’t care who’s in charge--unless they’re doing a worse job than I’d do. But if I can do better, then I’m going to take that throne back and sit on it, because I’ve trained my whole damn life to get my arse in that seat.”

Eichi stares back at him through lidded eyes, and slowly reaches up, pinching one of his nipples. “If you don’t do something about it,” he bluntly says, “I’m killing him, and taking it myself. The Academy, too. Then you can answer to me on your knees all day. Understood?” 

“But what does he _want?_ Ow,” Leo adds, swatting Eichi’s hand away, then climbing into his lap, pushing Eichi back down to the bed. “What do you want, except to be The Emperor? Tell me about the man I’m fucking.”

“If you drip on me, I’m rolling you back over,” Eichi grumpily warns, but allows Leo to climb all over him nonetheless. “I don’t know what that hellbeast wants. I’m not a bloody demon, I don’t think like they do.” His lips purse. “But I want what’s mine. I worked hard to bring the Academy to where it is today, and given up more than a silly human could possibly understand. I don’t want your damned throne, but I’ll take it if what I’ve worked for isn’t given back to me with the control I deserve.”

“What do you want the Academy to be?” Leo presses. “Everyone says I’m an idealist, but I think you are, too. You’ve got ideas about how you want it to be, right? A vision in your head you’re trying to get it to match up to?” He reaches out, cupping Eichi’s cheek, not entirely sure why he’s doing it. “Share with me.”

Eichi hesitates, the stare he offers in return wary. “It’s _supposed_ to be,” he quietly answers in spite of himself, “a place for every single wizard to reach their full potential. Pushing them towards that sometimes requires means that regular humans can’t understand…and means that mixed-bloods seem to naturally object to.” 

“It sounds nice,” Leo says softly. “I’ve seen wizards that can do all kinds of stuff, scary stuff. I bet that they’d have a lot of trouble getting by or fitting in without the Academy. I’ve done my history, I know we haven’t always...done right by wizards, in the past. I always said that in a kingdom of mine, my dream was for everyone’smisery to be of their own making, and not because they were fucked since birth, you know?”

“A pleasant ideal.” Eichi’s hands unclench, and slowly slide to Leo’s hips, resting there. “As I said, these kinds of protests…they’re a very recent thing. For example—the Demon King’s _mate_ , as he calls himself now, never had a single issue that he voiced to me until the Demon King came along. Who, again, I should mention, has personal vendettas with me based on restrictions that I felt were _necessary._ Power regulation is important, lest we have uncontrolled wizards tearing apart the world, and he’s a fool that used to fuck everything that breathed to have enough power to upend the oceans.” He huffs, annoyed. “He’s the reason we had to place so many restrictions in the first place. He took his abilities and ran with it. Imagine if we had even three or four wizards doing that and doing what he’s doing right now; it’s not like sex magic is impossible for a talented wizard to learn in some capacity. Chaos, constant chaos, the bad kind.” 

“I mean,” Leo hedges, “ _my_ way of doing it would be to prohibit doing bad things instead of having power. Seems easier. And train the powerful ones to be on your side. But I’m not a wizard! Hey, changing the subject, what are you? You’re not a half-blood, but you’re definitely not human.” He leans forward, and licks Eichi’s shoulder experimentally. “You taste like the moon. But also like sweat.”

“Drowning in magic, wizards have an uncanny ability to see blurred lines between good and bad, so your way doesn’t always work,” Eichi mutters, and pushes a hand into Leo’s face. “Don’t lick me. In what way do I taste like the moon?” 

 

“You know when you walk outside on a clear night, and you open your eyes and spread your arms, and let your mouth fall open? That’s what you taste like,” Leo says seriously.

“…How oddly specific.” Eichi frowns, but relents, curling his fingers back through Leo’s hair. “This is a human body,” he says. “But the closest thing you’d understand me to be is something like an angel. Mm, but I refuse to get too specific, you might take that information and run with it.” 

“I will absolutely run with it,” Leo promises solemnly, eyes shining. “Have you been to the moon?”

“Maybe. But you’re not getting details until you do my bidding.” 

Leo scowls. “It’s rude to dangle that over me. Moon privilege. Maybe you need more calcium.”

Eichi shrugs at him, unfazed. “Doubtful, I take a lot of milk in my tea.” 

The doorknob jiggles, and a grumpy, irritated thump comes from the other side of the thankfully locked door. “Leoooo,” comes Izumi’s _very_ drunk whine. “Don’t tell me you fell asleep already. I’m drunk and think you’re pretty, let me iiiin.”

“I recommend ignoring him,” Eichi mildly says, “or being very princely and sending him away, because I’m quite comfortable, thank you.” 

Guilt threads through Leo’s stomach, and he calls, “Share with Arashi and Mika again, would you? I know you want to!”

“Arashi’s passed out drunk and Mika’s babysitting him and the cat-boy and I think you’re prettier than the whole lot of them _and_ every noblewoman I’ve ever fucked.” 

“Ooh, a charmer,” Eichi lowly remarks. 

“Leo, c’mon, just let me cuddle you. Or kiss you. I’ll be sweet, I can do that, I swear.” 

“Oh, by the way,” Leo says to Eichi quite frankly, “I’m a bad liar.”

Then he opens the door, a resigned, chagrined look on his face. “Hi. You’re pretty too. I have company. Weird, right?”

Drunk Izumi—drunk Izumi, who has worked _hard_ to get drunk and stay drunk—clearly doesn’t process this, and focuses instead on the fact that Leo is mussed, naked, and still more than a little sweaty. “I know…I said I was just going to cuddle you,” he says very seriously, stumbling a bit as he steps into the room, grabbing for Leo’s arm. “But you look like…someone that needs to be fucked within an inch of his life. Gods, how are you _so_ perfect, come here…” 

Eichi’s eyebrows climb, and he leans back in bed, counting down until he’s noticed. 

Leo’s self-control wavers for a moment, then he shrugs, letting himself be pulled onto the bed. “We’ve got company,” he says again, and gently turns Izumi’s face toward Eichi. “But you’re cute, you can do stuff to me anyway.”

Izumi jerks, pulling back abruptly. “What—who—“ 

“Ahh, that’s right. We’ve never met.” Eichi’s eyes lid, critical, analytical as they sweep over Izumi. “The Sena heir, I presume? A pleasure. You probably know me as the Emperor, but Eichi will do.” 

Sobriety returns so quickly that it leaves Izumi’s head spinning. Suddenly, he can’t reach for the dagger at his hip quickly enough, but touching it makes him jerk back his hand with a yelp, the metal so strangely hot that it burns. “Don’t bother,” Eichi sighs, fluttering a hand. “You can’t kill me with that, anyway. Sit, we’ll have a nice talk.”

“Leo,” Izumi lowly begins. “I don’t know what he’s been telling you, but—“ 

“We’ve been discussing ideals and the like. _Sit_.” Eichi looks to Leo, annoyed. “Is he not trained? _My_ closest guards know those kinds of commands.” 

“Why would I train my guards to follow someone else’s commands?” Leo asks, and quite rightly, too, he thinks. “Izumi, sit with me, please...Rei’s taken not just the Academy, but my throne, too. We’re seeing if we can find some compromise or middle ground, I want your input.”

“…I’ll stand, thank you,” Izumi stiffly says, arms folded across his chest. “Have you actually confirmed what he’s told you? How do you know he’s not toying with you?” 

Eichi spreads his hands with a smile. “Indeed, how does he know? Ah, so you’re so tense, it makes me anxious. I know you’ve heard some interesting things about me, being the bodyguard of the Nightcloak Shu and his little pet, but I can only imagine they’re taken quite out of context.” 

“Either way,” Leo says softly, “how is it bad to hear what he has to say? If I want to be the king, don’t I have to listen to everyone, not just the people who agree with me? I’m not going to do anything without confirming it first, but more information is good, right?”

Izumi exhales a short, sharp breath, and says nothing to that for a moment. Instead, he stoops to pick up Leo’s cloak where it’s been long discarded onto the floor and sweeps it around him, unable to stand the fact that he’s so casually naked in a setting like this any longer. “You don’t have to listen to your enemies,” he flatly says, fastening the cloak around Leo’s bare shoulders. “Which is what he should be.” 

“I know, I know, the idea that the person you’ve fled for so long being helpful is incomprehensible to little reptile brains,” Eichi says with a flutter of his hand. “But rest assured—“ 

“You bought me from a group of nobles working against the crown and passed me along to your research facility, like I was a piece of meat.” 

“I _mean_ , I didn’t do it, specifically. The head of our research department did. It was for science, a good cause. The more we can learn from half-breeds and how they function, the better!” 

“But that worked out right, didn’t it?” Leo asks, almost imploringly, grabbing Izumi’s hand. “If he hadn’t bought what I’m assuming he thought was a corpse, you wouldn’t have gotten to friends, and you wouldn’t be with me now. I’m just _saying_ , I know he and the Demon King hate each other, but you said yourself we can’t necessarily trust Rei, so why not at least listen?”

Izumi’s teeth grit, his fingers curling tightly around Leo’s hand. “Fine,” he quietly, begrudgingly says. “But only because you’re asking me to.” 

“Good enough,” Eichi brightly says. “Though honestly, I don’t have _much_ to say. I just want the Demon King dead and my Academy back. He sunk my house into the ground and broke all my teacups. Oh, and he has my two favorites held hostage, that infuriates me.” 

“Leo, why are you even wasting your time with this—“

“And _also_ ,” Eichi interrupts, his eyes narrowing. “I’m _very_ willing to see Leo back to the throne. The whole of the kingdom supports me. I’ve protected them from dangerous wizards for quite some time, you know…since I took over, human deaths by wizard blooming? Almost negligible, compared to the past.” 

“There’s _never_ been a good system in place for wizards and humans existing side by side,” Leo admits grudgingly. “In the past...a _lot_ of people died because of young untrained wizards. This system...people have been willing to overlook a lot of reports of issues because the deaths to Father’s people have been so low. So I definitely, number one, want to repeal all the bad things that are happening to wizards, _just like I promised_ ,” he says firmly, locking eyes with Eichi, feeling an odd twitch under the cloak. Weird. “Like, no more legislating celibacy for the others if you’re going to have sex, that’s just bad leadership.”

“I’m not human, and I’m not a normal wizard,” Eichi immediately retorts to that. “I don’t see why—“

“Because you’re keeping them from having normal human relationships, obviously.” 

Eichi exhales irritably, shrugging. “If I could guarantee they could emotionally _deal with it_ ,” he says, “that would be one thing. But I can’t. You can’t have less deaths and also have wizards fucking each other—or normal humans!—all the time. Even well-trained wizards are emotionally volatile. Say the wrong thing, remind them they can’t have babies, break up a relationship, you name it, they’ll blow up a city. That’s why the restriction is in place, and it makes _sense._ ” 

“Except for the part where it makes enough people hate you that they take over your house and break all your teacups,” Leo says dryly. “And you have wizards that aren’t normal humans or normal wizards. This one isn’t up for debate, Eichi. I made a promise that I wouldn’t allow those restrictions to continue. I’ll hear arguments for counseling, or for discouraging wizard/human interaction, or whatever, but the underwear and the instant death sentence have _got_ to go.”

“It’s only a death sentence for the humans, not the wizards!”

Izumi folds his arms again. “Excellent. Then go ahead and kill me.” 

Eichi sighs, rolling his eyes. “Yes, yes, I’m aware you have multiple offenses, starting with that cute blond that you’re bonded to, which is highly inconvenient for everyone. If you want me to repeal something like this, Leo, then the crown will need to take on far more responsibility, financially. Do you _really_ want to pay for all the inevitable damage that will be done when untrained, idiot wizards hit puberty and decide it’s the end of the world when a woman won’t marry them because they’re sterile?” 

Izumi stares back at him with narrowed eyes. “…Why do you do that?” 

“Hm? Do what?” 

“Just…lie. Randomly. To unsettle people.” 

Eichi blinks. “I’m not lying about anything. Ah, why are half-breeds all like this, you’re all so rude.” 

“Did you--wait, first, stop calling him a half-breed, it sounds a lot worse than a half-blood for some reason,” Leo says, brow furrowed. “Did you just...” He swallows, looking up at Izumi. Surely, Izumi would have told him if he were...if he and Arashi were...

Or would he?

“I’m willing to put in more fiscal responsibility,” he says instead, very carefully, lowering his eyes from where he’s not sure he wants to see a lie. “We can discuss the details later. But if human/wizard interaction is the problem, I can see about allocating the Academy more land, so that wizards won’t go so stir-crazy if they’re kept at the Academy until they’re older, or sending them on specifically all-wizard tasks until they’re, say, twenty? Until the hormones have died down, at least. Is that a good start? It’s not legislating that they can’t fuck, but just kinda...keeping them away from falling in love with humans until they’re old enough to be smarter. That underwear has to go, though.”

“Or I’ll make it an option, and those that choose to wear it _will_ automatically have higher standing because it makes my life a lot easier,” Eichi flatly argues. “Human/wizard interaction is only part of it. Obviously, wizards like to crawl all over each other as well. That’s how we got into this mess, just look at the Demon King and his obnoxious little—“ 

“I can’t listen to this,” Izumi mutters, shifting restlessly, still entirely unsettled by that one, throwaway statement. “Leo, how do you know the Demon King isn’t just holding a spot for you? Did he imprison your father, or kill him? If it’s the former, then he’s obviously not here to start a war—just give him the Academy, let him do as he wants, and take your crown back.”

That cute blond you’re bonded to--

_The words churn in Leo’s mind, and he bites back a response to that as hard as he can, swallowing it down. “I’m thinking through my options,” he says quietly, “in case the Demon King really is just out for himself. But I fully intend to ask him about what he wants, with the army you’ve helped me raise at my back.” He reaches out to set his hand on Izumi’s, feeling it cold. “Isn’t it better to negotiate from a place of power, with all the facts, instead of running off not knowing anything? Isn’t that what you keep trying to tell me?”_

“I don’t think this tyrant is an option,” Izumi lowly says, all but vibrating underneath Leo’s touch. “I’ve spoken to enough wizards—“

“Half a dozen isn’t enough, _honestly_ —“ 

“One would be enough, if you treat them the way I know you have!” 

Eichi sighs, shrugging. “That’s your opinion, and their word against mine. I believe it was justified.” 

“The words of a liar mean absolutely nothing in this situation.” 

“For the last time, I’m a lot of things, but not a liar. I—“ Eichi pauses, his head tilting. “Oh. _Oh_ , I just got it. You didn’t _know_ , did you? Ooh.” He leans forward, eyes glittering. “That’s fascinating. I always thought half-breeds were more in-tune with it, somehow, but I suppose you are still a baby.”

Leo’s heart twists. “Izumi, it’s--you don’t, do you?” He can’t help himself from asking anymore, even if his instincts warn him that he really, really doesn’t want to know the answer. “I mean, I know you’ve been...spending a lot of time with him, and...you like him an awful lot, and...”

And I heard you tell him you love him. And I know you murdered three people for him yesterday.

_“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Izumi immediately, flatly says, taking a step back. “Honestly, I don’t. I think I’d know if I was bonded, thanks, and even if I didn’t, taking the word of this bastard after he’s tortured and killed so many people—“_

“The way you say it makes it sound like such a _senseless_ thing.” Eichi pouts. “Leo, I can assure you—“ 

“I’m done. This is absolutely ridiculous, and I’m waking the others up, and we’re _going_ , far away from him so this can fucking stop. Get dressed, Milord, and maybe correct him when he tries to address you so intimately.” Izumi spins on his heel, stalking out of the room, the door slamming behind him. 

“Quite a temper on that one,” Eichi remarks, leaning back against the headboard again. “ _Well._ ” 

“You...weren’t lying. Were you?” Leo asks softly, tucking his knees up to his chin. “He formed a resonant bond.” _With someone who isn’t me._

“Honestly, how many times do I have to say it—of course I wasn’t lying.” Eichi looks at Leo after that, however, and heaves a sigh. Right, right. What’s the _human_ , sympathetic way to react? “I’ve done quite a bit of research on these kinds of things,” he says, reaching over to pet Leo’s hair. “It’s, annoyingly, not something that can be controlled. We can’t choose who we bond with, for better or for worse.” 

“I never felt jealous of people that had them,” Leo says quietly, closing his eyes, letting Eichi play with his hair. “But knowing my lover has one with someone else...that...” He swallows, and it’s so difficult it feels as if he’s swallowing a live frog. “That means he’ll stop loving me, doesn’t it? He has to, right?”

“If he can’t feel that it’s there, then probably not,” Eichi lightly says. “You know, I’ve always wondered if you kill a half-breed’s bonded…especially a half-drake, like your lover…if they die the same as any normal human would. Probably not. I’ll go kill the one he’s bonded to, would you like that?” 

“No!” Leo’s voice is sharp, almost panicked. “No, no, that’s awful! Just--just because he’s, because this has...happened...that doesn’t mean I want anyone to _die_!”

Maybe Izumi’s right. Maybe talking to Eichi is a waste of time--not because he’s evil, but because he so clearly can’t understand anything about what makes one evil or good. Leo springs up, feverishly yanking on his clothing, haphazardly tying his cloak around his shoulders. “I have to go.”

Eichi sighs, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, watching Leo as he dresses. “Well, fine, but you haven’t heard my final proposition, and I think it’s a good one.” 

“Tell me fast, please.” Leo looks up, eyes wild. “And make it good, I really want something to believe in right now.”

“Give me that Nightcloak next door, and I’ll do anything you like, down to stripping every law you find distasteful in the Academy, down to following you directly back to the Capital and speaking on your behalf the second the Demon King tries to withhold the throne from you. I’ll even do the dirty work for you, and kill him if he resists. I know how to.” Eichi leans forward, lifting his eyebrows. “I’ll have the Himemiya family finance your every move on the throne—for the betterment of your people.” 

Leo’s breath stutters. 

I should do it.

_His world spins, and he feels his feet waver._

It would be worth it.

_His heart beats, so hard his ribs hurt._

I could save so many lives.

_Eichi’s eyes glitter at him._

This is how it starts. This is how every tyrant starts coming to power. Leo knows that much from his lessons. Every tyrant begins as someone who makes just one deal, one slip, and the next one is easier. It makes sense, it might even be the right choice. Natsume is dangerous, obviously, and his power is unchecked. He even hates Leo, and probably won’t even work with him. He’s nothing but a threat, and Eichi is offering him everything he needs, everything he needs to _help_ people, in exchange.

And this is how it starts.

With the sacrifice of an innocent, people become tokens, chips, currency. Leo sucks in a breath, and looks away from the shining carrot dangled in front of him. “I’m really glad,” he says softly, tying his cloak around his shoulders, “that you proved you weren’t trustworthy when you offered me a blood pact. Because now, even if I wanted to, I can’t trust that you’ll keep your word. So, thank you, but I’m going. I still wouldn’t mind working with you in the future, but not this. I won’t ever trade you lives. Not sorry.”

Eichi exhales a soft breath, his eyes lidding. “How disappointing,” he murmurs, tapping his chin thoughtfully as he rises to his feet. “Especially because you’re misunderstanding me so…obviously.” He holds out a hand, and curls his fingers. “Come here. If you want a real pact, I’ll give you one.” 

“You’ve offered me such things before,” Leo says, backing up, shaking his head. “His life isn’t mine to trade. A sovereign citizen _isn’t_ , and he is one. His citizenship was never signed over to the Academy.”

“He’s from the Isles, I can tell by the way he speaks. He doesn’t belong to either of us, technically, but if he’s traveling with you, isn’t he your wizard? So, sign him over.” Eichi reaches out, quick as a snake, and grabs Leo’s wrist, yanking him forward and over to him. “But before you do that, I’ll give you the pact you want.” 

“I won’t give you any life that doesn’t belong to you,” Leo says, eyes blazing, though he doesn’t snatch his hand back. “You should want to support me because it’s the right way forward, and we both know damn well you don’t have another candidate for the crown that will be more positive on wizards than me.”

“I am supporting you because it’s the right way forward. Do you see me trying to negotiate with the Demon King right now? Or with your father?” Eichi leans down so that their eyes can meet. “What,” he softly asks, “do you think I’m going to do to him? If you’re so hesitant, you must think there’s some truth to the nonsense your associates have been rambling on about. He’s unusual, and all I want is to preserve that.” 

“How about,” Leo says quietly, looking Eichi directly in the eyes, “if he agrees to go with you, I’ll agree to sign away his life to you? After all...if you mean him no harm and you aren’t the monster they say, he should have no problem doing so, right?”

“That would be ideal. But I don’t know what sort of lies he’s been told, and I certainly don’t know what care he’s been under for all of these years…if it has anything to do with the Demon King, then I’m absolutely certain he’s been lied to, and everything about the Academy has been twisted in his mind. More importantly—“ 

Eichi grabs Leo by the chin, dragging him forward, crushing their lips together. His power sings outward, a glowing golden cord and starts to wrap its way about Leo’s neck, but it hits… _something._ Eichi doesn’t have a chance to fully figure out what that something is, however, before his already cut-off magic triggers a low-laid nest of blockers and alarms laid throughout the room, making them all flare up at once as a strangely laid spiderweb from wall to wall, furniture to furniture, window to door, sparking purple lines of power from spot to spot. “Oh, that’s just annoying,” Eichi sighs, rocking back onto his heels. “That didn’t react when I used magic before.” 

“Yeah, it did. It warned me you were here ahead of time.” 

Mika stands in the doorway, visibly trembling, but with his jaw set stubbornly all the same. “Your Highness, get away from him.” 

“You know, I’m rather fond of birds, but crows always irritate the shit out of me,” Eichi moodily says. “They’re always brighter than I want them to be. Trash birds shouldn’t be. Did your master teach you that trick? Had to be before he lost what was left of his good sense—“

One of the strands of magic abruptly rises, tightens around Eichi’s neck, and yanks him backwards to sling him back into the wall, with every other strand soon following to wrap and pin him within a glowing web. He grunts, annoyed. “You wouldn’t dare—“

“You think I won’t fuckin’ kill you?” Mika snarls, surging forward into the room. “You think I can’t see how weak you are right now? You can hide it from every other person, not me!” 

Leo’s breath catches, and he stumbles backward, eyes wide, staring at Eichi caught in a spiderweb of shimmering magic, eyes darting to where Mika’s mismatched eyes blaze. “You can’t,” he says, voice quavering with something that feels oddly like self-preservation. 

“Don’t think he won’t.” Arashi stands in the doorway behind Mika, hand on his shoulder, the other holding a shimmering sword. “If anyone’s got reason to want to do this, it’s--”

“That’s not what I mean!” Leo stands, tucking his hair behind his ear. “I’m not telling you not to, I’m telling you you _can’t_. You don’t know how to kill him, do you? How do you know that trying won’t just piss him off and free him?”

Mika’s stare is unwavering, and he lifts his hand before slowly curling his fingers towards his palm, every strand of the web tightening slowly around Eichi until he coughs, clearly struggling for a full breath. “I’m willin’ to give it a shot. Step _back_ , Milord, I already told you once.” 

“Leo, come here.” Izumi’s voice is far calmer than Mika’s as he steps past Arashi enough to hold out his hand. “They can handle him, we need to leave.” 

Leo slowly moves toward Izumi, heart thudding hard. “Someone needs to be watching the Nightcloak,” he says quietly, eyes on Eichi, not saying his name for fear of spilling more information. “That’s what he came for. But he promised me--he promised me he’ll work to make things better, we don’t know _what_ the Demon King is going to do.”

“Who cares?” Arashi asks. “It’s better than murdering children for the way they’re born, and anyone who falls in love. I know damn sure that Rei won’t do that.”

“He’s already been taken away, it’s a nonissue.” Izumi’s eyes lid, his hand steady. “Right now, what’s important is that you stay safe. So let’s go, and we can talk while we _leave_ —“ 

“Wrong, I didn’t come for that cute little kitty.” 

Mika’s web splits open straight down the middle, and Mika immediately, frantically rips that power back to himself, blocking the resulting backlash and slap of Eichi’s own power from everyone else. It makes him slide backwards into Arashi, teeth gritted to keep back a yelp. “I came for the prince,” Eichi sniffs, dusting himself off with a wrinkle of his nose. “Who is a much prettier example of a bird, I think. You know, you’re strong for a disgusting little crow, but if all you eat is carrion, it starts to show. Leo, come back here, I’m not done talking to you.” 

Leo’s breath catches. He turns to look at Izumi, then Arashi, who holds Mika close. “Take care of him,” he says, with a little smile. “Keep them safe. Go, yeah?”

Then he steps forward, between Eichi and the rest of them, going to his side.

Arashi grabs Izumi by the arm, tossing Mika over his shoulder as he makes for the door.

Shock immediately filters over Izumi’s face, but it turns to anger just as quickly. “What? No—dammit, _no_ , Leo, you dumbass—Arashi, let me—“ 

“Sorry, Izumi,” Mika mutters, pushing himself up on Arashi’s shoulder and reaching out back towards the door, simultaneously yanking it shut with one simple, magical pull, and leaving criss-crossing lines of magic back over it that disappear and meld into it with a last, shadowy glitter. “ _Kara_ , knock him out so we can leave faster.” 

Arashi moves lightning-fast, striking Izumi at the temple with the hilt of his sword. Then he tosses Izumi over his other shoulder, and leaps down the entire flight of stairs, headed at a dead run for the stables. 

“He’s going to be furious,” he says conversationally a few moments later, holding tight to Vale’s reins as they gallop East, an unconscious Izumi tied to the saddle. “But that was fast thinking, _amaka_. Ahhh, my legs are going to hurt for _days_ from that jump, but it was impressive, right?”

“There’s no way he’d let us leave Leo behind,” Mika says with a shake of his head, clinging to Arashi’s back. Shedding another horse makes their trail lighter, though he’s going to miss his. “And even if the Emperor’s weaker than I’ve ever seen him, too many people were around, it’d be bad if I actually tried to fight him.” He buries his face into the back of Arashi’s neck. “ _Kara’s_ always impressive,” he murmurs. “I can feel Natsu ‘bout a league ahead. Damn, Fianna’s fast.” 

“She’d be honestly useless in a real battle,” Arashi says with a sigh. “Unless you want a horse that’ll simply run away from the Inglings. If that creature has ever seen anything as scary as a snog, I’ll eat my boots with no sauce. Nah, you want a great beast like Neigh or Vale here, that can dish out a heap of pain and take some of their own.”

“But she’s useful right now, ‘cause now the Emperor knows we’ve got a prophet and the best thing we can do is play keep away.” Mika winces. “Especially when it’s a prophet who accurately predicted this. He told me he saw a lot of stuff with the Emperor and the prince, but the timeline was all jumbled—I didn’t expect it to happen so soon, but I don’t think he did, either. But it’s…it’s why he couldn’t even look at Leo. He seemed real weird, didn’t he? Like he couldn’t help but stay, but I know the Emperor didn’t have a spell on him, I stopped him from doing just that.” 

“Everyone seems weird right now,” Arashi says with a sigh, spurring Neigh faster, ignoring Vale’s snap at his arm. “Everything’s gone mad, hasn’t it? I don’t even know where we’re going. The Capital? I have an army, but no prince to put on the throne.”

“The Capital,” Mika softly agrees, shoving his face back firmly into Arashi’s shoulder. “Because at least Rei and Master are there. They’ll know what to do next. If…Leo’s gonna keep tryin’ to side with the Emperor like that… _kara_ , I can’t side with him, you know that, right?” 

Arashi snorts. “I know, _amaka_. But did that really sound to you like he was trying to side with the Emperor? He was going to leave with us before the Emperor burst your little trap, I don’t think he’s turned. I still believe in that red little fool.”

“I know. I know, he’s jus’—it’s weird. All of it’s weird.” Mika pauses, then adds, grumpily, “Though either way, my opinion of him’s pretty low right now ‘cause he can have deliberate, casual sex with someone like that. Gross.” 

“I don’t really know how anyone has casual sex,” Arashi admits. “It doesn’t ever work for me. I’ve tried, but if I don’t care about the person, it doesn’t work. It’s why I can’t really imagine myself ever marrying a woman and doing right by her.” He pauses, then asks, because talking about _this_ shit is stressful, “Have you ever been with a woman, darling?”

“Yeah. But I don’t wanna talk about it.” Mika’s eyes lid, and his arms tighten around Arashi’s waist. “I don’t get it, either,” he quietly admits. “If you don’t care about someone, what’s the point? But I feel like havin’ casual sex with a bad person is even worse. It’s not like we haven’t told him that the Emperor’s bad, and he still…” 

“I don’t know. For him...maybe that makes it hotter. I used to have this one lieutenant,” Arashi recalls conversationally, easing Neigh into a canter that’s easier on her than the gallop, “who’d only bend over for men that had bedded his sister first. I knew another one that used to pay ladies to hit him with riding crops--oh, there was one who would only go to bed with men that called him the cruelest names. He used to beg me--apparently, me being his superior office made it more attractive for him. It takes all kinds, you know? I try not to judge men professionally on what they like in that way.”

“All of those are different.” Mika relaxes back into the saddle a bit, not feeling like he has to cling to Arashi to keep himself steady any longer at this pace. Fianna is fast, but Neigh isn’t exactly _slow._ “Do you know why the Emperor keeps callin’ me a crow?” 

“I have no idea, really. You’ve never reminded me of a crow.” Arashi frowns. “Is it something from when you were young?”

“Sort of. When I first was brought to the Academy, even he couldn’t get near me. My magic’s real effective on him, actually. He doesn’t like that, so he doesn’t like me. But what he’d do instead of dealin’ with me himself is set the Faerie on me. Anytime I’d freak out, and not be able to control anythin’…he’d just send the Faerie after me, and he’d…jus’ cut them down. The ghosts, I mean. Just a touch and they disintegrate. And it hurts. Burns, like someone’s dumpin’ their pipe ash out on your skin.” Mika’s teeth set into a grind. “Anyway, the Emperor never calls the Faerie by that name. He calls him his _falcon_ , and guess what falcons like to divebomb out of the sky and eat.” 

Arashi rides in silence for a few moments. It’s hard to tell which is bothering him most, the fact that Mika has always known exactly what pipe ash on the skin feels like, or the idea of him being relentlessly attacked at the first place he’d ever felt safe. “You know that no one knows that stuff, right? I’m not saying it _would_ be different if Leo knew, but it could be. Even I didn’t know that. I mean, it’s hard for me to not turn around now and kill him myself, the only reason I’m not is because I’m pretty sure I couldn’t.”

“You can’t.” Mika just sounds tired at that statement, and he slumps forward, hooking his chin over Arashi’s shoulder. “I can’t, either. Threatenin’ him sure was fun, though, and I definitely could’ve beaten him up a bit, if I wasn’t worried about other people dyin’. See, I don’t mind tellin’ those stories to you, because you just believe me, and don’t try to see anything out of it other than what it is. Like, ‘well, maybe he was like that because—‘ No, fuck that. He’s jus’ a bad person and he gets off on it. I’d have to explain it five ways ‘till Leo _might_ hear it right, and I’m not good enough at words to do that.” 

“This is dumb. I wish you were riding in front of me so I could cuddle you. You can tell me anything, you know. Anything that’s killing you inside, those horrors--I won’t judge you, and I won’t remember it later when you’re begging me to do you hard, either.” Arashi pats Mika’s hand, then squeezes it. “I’m not one of those people who needs to see the best in arseholes, or who can’t handle the worst in people I love.”

“Yeah. I know. That’s why I love you.” Mika squeezes Arashi’s waist hard. “Neither of us are good at sugarcoatin’, and I like it that way. Hey, we could totally just fuck off now if we wanted. No more prince, and we already got the boy we like. He killed bad people for you, he’s good.” 

Arashi’s hand twitches. He looks sideways at Izumi, then at the forking road in front of them. One leads North, the other to the Capital. “That needs to be a lot less tempting,” he says with a sigh, and pulls Neigh and Vale to a stop. Then he leans sideways, and gives Izumi a shake. “Wake up, lazy. Want your input.”

Izumi groans as he stirs, his brow furrowing, and he shifts, his head lolling. “Fuck you, my head hurts.”

“Doubtful, you heal when you’re unconscious,” Mika remarks, smoothing his cloak out over Neigh’s back. “I’ve watched.” 

“Nn.” Izumi’s eyes blearily crack open, and he glowers over at Arashi. “Fucking untie me. Right now.” 

“What are you going to do if I do?” Arashi asks, whirling Neigh to face Izumi on Vale. “Run back and try to fight the Emperor for your love? We’re hours away. They could be anywhere.”

“I have to do something, don’t I?” Izumi snaps, subtly shifting in his saddle, which is more than enough for Vale to rear and rip his reins straight out of Arashi’s grasp. “The Emperor obviously has him under some kind of spell—“

“Nope,” Mika wearily says, slumping against Arashi’s back. “I checked, he ain’t.” 

“Then—then he’s got him convinced of gods know what, and I _have_ to go and try to stop him from doing something stupid.” Izumi’s lower lip trembles. “He’s already doing everything he can to break Leo and I apart—he told Leo that you and I were bonded, Arashi, what the hell.” 

Mika blinks at that, his brow knitting, but he says nothing. 

“Eh? But we can’t be,” Arashi points out, with a slow blink. “I’m not a wizard, and neither are you. Only wizards can have them, right, _amaka_?”

“…Yeah, it’s definitely a wizard thing. I don’t _think_ half-bloods count.” Mika’s head cocks slowly. “What…exactly did he say?” 

“He said…gods, I don’t even remember exactly. Just something about the ‘cute blond I was bonded to.’” Izumi sniffles, and tries to contort in the saddle to pick up Vale’s reins with his damned teeth. “I swear, I’m not bonded to anyone, wouldn’t I feel it? Ugh, untie me already, come on!” 

“No,” Arashi says flatly. “To the untying thing. Damn, the first chance you really get for what you honestly want, and you’re not going to take it? I see how it is.”

“W-what are you even talking about? Arashi, _please_ , I have to go back to help him, literally no one else is going to, no one else gets it and no one else is ever going to take care of him properly!”

Mika’s eyes roll skyward, and he flops back against Arashi’s back. “Kasa’s circling back with Natsu, we took too long.” 

“Last chance,” Arashi offers, though his voice doesn’t have much hope in it. “I doubt you’ll agree, but you told me to ask you again.” He points down the main road. “That’s where Natsume and Tsukasa are. Capital. War. Fighting. Leo and the Emperor and the Demon King.”

He points towards the other road. “The North. Your mother will be there soon, since the King isn’t on the throne anymore. Running away. You and me and Mika, and no more fighting, and everyone loves you. Choose.”

“This is the worst time you could ever ask me again,” Izumi whispers. His chest aches from how hard his heart is thudding. Every second that passes is a second that Leo could be twisted or hurt by the Emperor’s hand, and that scares him more than anything. “I can’t lose him again,” he blurts out, blinking hard, and hot tears streak down his face. “I can’t.” 

“Well, it was worth a shot,” Arashi says with a sigh, and wheels Neigh towards the Capital. “When we die fighting someone else’s war, _amaka_ , remember this moment. We could have had warming stones. Yooohoo, Tsukasa!”

“I’m gonna ask him again, when the prince keeps fucking the Emperor,” Mika mutters so only Arashi can hear. “I like warming stones.”

The sound of approaching hoofbeats is much louder after only a few more seconds, and the cloud of dust that Fianna kicks up when she skids to an eventual stop is impressive, to say the least. “Oh, thank the gods,” Tsukasa breathes, looking decidedly windswept, his face flushed from the force of wind. “You’re all in one piece. Ah…where’s the prince? And…why is Izumi tied to his saddle…” 

Natsume slowly unwraps his arms from Tsukasa’s waist, looking decidedly shaken, his wide-eyed stare peeking out from his cloak’s hood. 

“What’s going on with you?” Arashi asks bluntly, peering at Natsume. “Still sick? More bad dreams? Izumi, get over here, I’ll untie you if you promise not to go back West, since they’re absolutely not there anymore.”

“…Fine.” Izumi sniffs, nudging Vale over. “Fuck you,” he quietly adds. 

“I…I’m all right,” Natsume answers, though there’s an edge of nerves still in his voice. “I’ve just never…been so _close_ to the Emperor before. He feels… _weird.”_

“Doesn’t he?” Mika agrees. “’s no good.” 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help you plan for this more,” Natsume adds, glancing down. “I didn’t expect it to come true so _quickly_.” 

“Hey, you see stuff,” Arashi interjects. “The Emperor said Izumi has a resonant bond with me, what the hell? That’s not right, is it? Natsume, you’ve made weird comments about knowing who’s got bonds before.”

Natsume blinks at Arashi, then shakes his head, pulling his ponytail over his shoulder to smooth it down. “No, that’s _completely_ wrong. You don’t have a bond with anyone.”

“Can you like…see them?” Mika presses, sort of mystified in spite of himself. “That’s cool.”

“I can, but not in the way that you’re thinking. It’s…I can see how people are connected. Like strings. If some of them are particularly strong, _maybe_ it’s a bond. It’s not foolproof.” 

Arashi opens his mouth, then shuts it again. “Well. That’s that, then, and the Emperor is a big fat liar about Izumi having a bond. I mean, it’s smart, if he wanted to get Leo on his side somehow. By the way, I’m not giving up on that boy, for all we know he’s got a plan. He’s wily like a cat, you know? So if anyone here actually wants to betray the prince and fuck off, do so, but if not, let’s go to the Capital and see what the Demon King is planning.”

“I’ve already sworn to serve the prince regardless of his actions,” Tsukasa softly says. “I’m certain he must have a plan. He wouldn’t do this and be so easily fooled.” 

“Gods, I _told_ Leo that he was lying,” Izumi miserably says, rubbing at his wrists once they’re freed and drops his feet from his stirrups, stretching out his cramped legs. “I don’t know why he won’t just leave the Emperor alone, obviously he’s a sack of shit.” 

Natsume studies them both for a moment longer, then says, bluntly, “I said _Arashi_ didn’t have a bond, not that _Izumi_ didn’t have a bond.” 

Izumi’s head jerks up. “Huh?” 

Natsume’s eyes narrow, tracking something only he can see. “…Maybe. I don’t know. It’s not foolproof. Let me read your palm.” 

“No, I’m going to kill you. I’m not bonded to anyone, damn it, I’d fucking feel it. I’m sick of you damned wizards, I’m going to the Capital already!” 

Izumi snatches up Vale’s reins and kicks him forward, taking off down the road, and Mika heaves a sigh, staring skyward. “My vote’s still on warmin’ stones, jus’ in case anyone gives a fuck.”

“I know, darling. Just stay close to me, I’ll keep you safe. And after the world is all sorted out, we’ll get our _own_ warming stone.” Arashi smiles, though his thoughts are churning. The Emperor hadn’t looked like a man playing a trick, but a man revealing a bit of information he’d been hanging onto, whether Izumi wants to believe it or not. “Besides, I overheard earlier. The Faerie’s still holed up and injured. That’s good, right? You don’t have to be afraid of his pet fucking falcon.”

“I’m not afraid of him, I wanna scratch his face off,” Mika mutters grumpily, clinging back to Arashi’s waist. “We’re goin’ back to the Capital. Master’s there, _and_ the Demon King’s there. Between the three of you, I’d have it good if we didn’t have to keep runnin’ around takin’ care of stupid stuff.” 

“I still think Izumi should let me read his _palm_ ,” Natsume huffily says, and Tsukasa shakes his head, turning Fianna back towards the road. 

“Why?” Arashi demands. “What’s the good of seeing the future if there’s nothing you can do to change it? It obviously isn’t making you any happier, sweetheart.”

“Because at least then I can prepare myself and not expect something good to happen when I know it’s not going to.” 

The words sound hollow, and Natsume sucks in a sharp breath. “But I don’t want to do that this time. Maybe if I talk to Lord Rei, he’ll know how to _change it._ I…in this case…I have to try.” 

“I can go, if you want,” Arashi suggests suddenly. “I’ll take Fianna, Tsukasa can ride Neigh. I’m the strongest fighter we’ve got, and about as indestructible as Izumi. If having me around will help, I’ll go to High Harbor right now. Maybe that’ll change something.”

“Nope,” Mika says abruptly. “You’re not allowed to. Sorry, Natsu.”

“I don’t think that would change anything, anyway,” Natsume says, shaking his head. “But thank you. You’ve been very kind to me. I…I think it has to be something more drastic, but I don’t know what to do yet. I just hope nothing happens before I can alter it.” 

“Well, then.” Arashi forces a smile, and spurs Neigh forward again. “I suppose we’d better hurry, then. And if we wind up in Canvera tonight, I’m sleeping in the mud.”


	46. Chapter 46

The Capital, somehow, isn’t in disarray. If anything, it seems…almost peaceful, somehow, though Izumi’s so on edge that it makes travel anything but that. 

Then again, wouldn’t _any_ citizen be interested in peace and quiet after weeks and weeks of starvation? The Northern army’s blockades are gone, with only a few lingering bits and pieces of them, but their group passes them easily, with Izumi as their vanguard. Upon entering the Capital itself, however, it isn’t Izumi that helps them gain access. 

“You, Nooncloak!”

Mika nearly jumps out of his skin out of habit, clinging tightly to Arashi’s back. Being called out to like that never has good results, but this time, the guards come directly to them at the gates, a hand held out in front of their horses. “His Excellency directly ordered us to send you to him upon your arrival—you can directly report to the palace at any time with your escorts.” 

“…Since when do I have escorts?” Mika wryly asks when his heart stops thudding, and Izumi snorts as he leads the way, knowing the quickest road. 

“Since you’re the favorite of our new queen-apparent. Gods, have you ever seen so many weeds everywhere? It’s just plain odd.” 

“That’s how you know Lord Rei is _here_ ,” Natsume says dreamily. “In the Isles, even at night, you’d see all these flowers just opening up and blooming everywhere—everything always smelled so nice.” 

Arashi whistles lowly, looking around. “I hate to say it,” he murmurs in Izumi’s ear, “but it looks kind of nice. Quiet, at least. Hey, I didn’t forget, I owe you some names. Feel free to camp outside with your mother tonight, it’ll be done by morning.”

“I’m not a coward.” Izumi’s grip is vice-tight on Vale’s reins, his knuckles white. “Do what you will, but I’m not waiting outside while you do it. I have too much to take care of here.” 

“I’m afraid this is where I need to leave you,” Tsukasa apologizes, cutting into their conversation. “I’ll be sure to check in later, but—I need to touch base with my family. I’ve been gone for far too long, and they deserve a proper update of this…unusual situation.” 

“That’s a word for it,” Izumi exhales, but he nods. “Toss Natsume up behind me, I’ll take him.” 

Arashi helps move Natsume up behind Izumi, patting him into place. “Get out of here, Tsukasa. Regards to your family, though they’d be horrified you spoke to someone so lowborn.”

“That’s enough,” a voice rings out, and Shu banishes the guards with a flick of his hand, sending them scurrying. He stands tall and proud, his black cloak almost seeming to swirl around him, but his face softens immeasurably when he sees Mika. Then he holds out his arms. “You look a disgrace, come here and let me fix you up.”

Tsukasa offers a last, brief wave before he’s gone, Fianna leaving them all in her literal dust. Mika has no time for it. Shu’s voice, far more than the sight of him, makes him leap off of Neigh in a heartbeat, launching himself full-force into his open arms. “ _Master—“_ Which is arguably the last word in the common tongue that spills out of his mouth before he starts babbling, very happily, in desert tongue as he buries his face into Shu’s chest and clings to his neck. 

“Hello to you, too, Milady,” Izumi wryly greets, though his expression is fond. “Or whatever I’m supposed to call you now. His Excellency still? Seems wrong.” 

“I’m going to require that you not fall victim to this incredibly stupid trend of calling me the Demon Queen. It’s quite erotic, but hardly appropriate, as I’m not a demon, and for once in my life am able to use my male anatomy as freely as I’d like,” Shu says dryly, but he has a smile for Izumi. “It isn’t as though I’ve missed you or anything. But you are a sight for sore eyes. Ah, I’d do something about your hair, but...” He gestures fondly down to Mika, thoroughly attached to him. “I’m quite busy at the moment having my cloak rumpled. Do come in, I’m sure my lord will speak to you, if that’s why you’re here. Thank you, and you, Captain, for returning Mika safely to me.”

“For that, the pleasure will always be mine,” Arashi says cheerfully, following at Shu’s heels when he turns. His eyebrows raise, and he murmurs to Izumi, “I always thought he was delicate, but it doesn’t even look like it’s hard for him to carry Mika around one-handed. I know he’s thin, but he _is_ a grown man.”

“I’d make a joke about sex being good strength training for some, but I don’t think Shu’s the one doing most of the work,” Izumi snidely whispers back. Natsume, for his part, is still too mystified with the Capital itself, and remains latched to Izumi’s back, obviously somewhat startled at the _scale_ of everything.

“Master, Master, you look so good—I’ve never seen your hourglass look that full, you know? Nnn, I’ve missed you so much, I’m no good at bein’ th’ wizard that’s in charge of stuff but I had to and it was _scary_ but now you’re here and I don’t want y’to ever leave _again_ —“ 

“Don’t be absurd, you look quite well and very beautiful. It’s a testament to my skills and training, of course, that you’ve managed to do as well as you have.” Shu absently pets Mika’s hair, straightening it and combing through some of the tangles with a murmured word. “Doesn’t it smell delightful? You may praise my lord, or me, I’m the one who coordinated the color scheme, obviously.”

Mika nods even as he simultaneously tries to butt his head against Shu’s touch, which isn’t helpful for anyone. “Everything’s so much prettier than when I saw the capital before,” he softly says. “I dunno what I expected, but it wasn’t this. I thought…everyone would be a lot more ready to fight a wizard tryin’ to be king.” 

The palace grounds are far more heavily guarded. Izumi’s nerves get the better of him, and he pulls his hood up, no matter the relatively sunny, pleasant weather. “Hand Neigh off to me, I’ll go drop the horses off in the stables,” he mutters. “There’s no one here that can handle Vale, either.” 

Arashi hands over the reins without complaint, giving Izumi a squeeze on the shoulder. “Make sure they’re close by, she likes to watch him eat, the little freak.”

“Sounds fun. Here, trade.” Izumi pushes Natsume into Arashi’s hold instead, and makes quick work of disappearing. 

Mika spares a glance after Izumi, then leans up, whispering into Shu’s ear, “There’s a lot of things with the Emperor I need to tell you…in private, probably.” Better not to have anyone else around to sway the conversation, because with Natsume’s prophecies and Izumi’s obvious concern, it could get messy.

“You two carry on, I’m going to see to this poor child here,” Arashi offers.

“Hmm? No, absolutely not, my lord wishes to see him. _Then_ we can speak in private.” 

Arashi purses his lips. “How about someone takes him off my hands, then, and I can go do _my_ duties while you all do your wizardly--”

“Yes, yes, you’re no more use here,” Shu says irritably, flapping a hand. “Set him on that bench, my lord is on his way.”

“Great, thanks!” Arashi sets Natsume onto the bench, assures him, “You’re with wizards now, that’s good!” and turns to run off, eyes sharp as he scans the city.

“Natsu had a real bad vision while we were on the road,” Mika quietly says after waving a quick good-bye to Arashi. Ahh, it’s a bit of a relief to finally be able to just talk about _magic_ , straight forwardly, and not have to water it down. He imagines Arashi feels the same way about battle or swords with him, and that’s what Izumi’s good for. Sadly, Natsume is no substitute for Shu, being as untrained as he is. “It’d be good if Rei talked to him about it, I think.”

“I don’t even know if it would help,” Natsume admits. “But I want to try and change the outcome, if I can.” 

“All of my favorites in one place? How unlikely.” 

Natsume bolts up immediately at the sound of that voice, and it takes no time at all for him to lunge forward, latching onto Rei with the full force of his meager weight. Rei catches him easily, swinging him around, and Natsume clings to his neck, muffling a sniffle into the thick curls of his hair. “Look at you—I don’t think I’ve _ever_ seen you dress like a boy, what a surprise,” he says with a laugh, letting Natsume dangle from him as he offers Shu a smile. “I see you’ve acquired a growth already. Hello, little bird.” 

“I ain’t lettin’ go,” Mika says very seriously. “So I hope you two already had your fun for the day.” 

“This,” Shu says, fondly cuddling Mika, “is the most wholesome thing we’ve done in days, my lord. We should feed them. This one is far too light. Natsume, if you’re more comfortable, I have a few gowns that would fit you in my quarters.”

Natsume _only_ lifts his head at that suggestion. “Really?” He tries not to sound too relieved, but fails. “That sounds _very_ nice.” 

“We should absolutely feed them,” Rei agrees, hefting Natsume up into his arms more thoroughly. “This one is also far too light. Were you not fed during your travels?” 

“I eat, Master jus’ always says that,” Mika complains, snuggling firmly into Shu’s chest. “You can’t let me get fat, I gotta be portable.”

“Think more of my strength than that, you little fool. And certainly that great brute you’ve been using as a packmule will be able to cart you about no matter how much you weigh. I’m speaking of the Captain, not your horse, in case your mind failed to grasp the humor, ha!”

Mika’s eyes tear up, and he buries his face firmly into Shu’s neck. “I missed you so much, Master,” he whispers. 

“I wish I could say things like that and have people cling unrepentantly to me,” Rei mildly comments, stroking Natsume’s back one-handedly. “Let’s settle them in, and I’ll send for my puppy to bring them a nice meal.” 

“Gotta tell you things,” Mika says with a sniffle, wiping his nose on Shu’s cloak. “Master, you smell good.” 

“Yes, I smell like my lord’s flowers. Aren’t they indescribably lovely? Well, for anyone else. My words, of course, are always adequate.”

Shu steers them into a cushy parlor, settling himself and Mika on a large armchair. “I thought this was quite nicer than the drafty throne room, though that does have a certain aesthetic. Natsume, there are gowns in the cabinet there. Use the red one, it’ll make a striking statement.”

Mika immediately nestles his way into Shu’s cloak, making himself comfortable. “I noticed a lot of the guards and stuff look like they’re from the Academy,” he quietly says.

“Mm, there’s a bit of crossover right now.” Rei sets Natsume down, and sheds his own heavy cloak for ease of movement, tossing it over the back of a chair to leave him in nothing but his breeches and low-laced shirt. He sets himself to the task of helping Natsume undress, and flips his long ponytail over into his face to keep it out of the way while helping him into the gown in question. Natsume, for his part, looks intensely pleased over his attention, his eyes lidded and cheeks lightly flushed as Rei laces him in. “Slowly, we’re working on integrating as much of the original staff as we can, for everyone’s comfort. It’s just a matter of making sure they’re truly loyal, and not set on driving me out.” 

He pulls Natsume’s ponytail back down, unravels it from its tie, and flops back down into his own chair, pulling Natsume down onto the ottoman in front of him to start the task of styling his hair into something fit for a lady, not a boy that’s been traveling nonstop. “Fortunately, there are a number of noble families willing to work with us. It’s just a matter of weeding out those that are less than savory still…I’ll need to speak with the Sena heir later. Many of the previous king’s advisors were less than forthcoming, and I’ll admit, I’ve been single-minded in my pursuits up until now. I’d say I’d love to speak with the prince, but he seems to be…missing?”

“The Emperor has him.” Mika pauses, then says curtly, “Or rather, he left with the Emperor.” 

“By choice?” Shu asks sharply. “Rei, stop that, you’re making it far worse. Mika, you’re going to have to move to let me fix up Natsume’s hair, it’s making me feel quite ill to see it in such a state.”

“I’m doing a fine job, I know what he likes!”

“I don’t care what it looks like if Lord Rei is petting me,” Natsume contently says.

“See? Listen to this good child,” Rei says fondly.

“I’m not moving,” Mika firmly says, latching more tightly to Shu’s waist. “Nuh uh. But yeah, by choice. Everyone keeps makin’ excuses for him but I don’t trust ‘em ‘cause he’s fucking the Emperor and bein’ real sympathetic to everythin’ that comes out of his mouth.” 

“Well.” Shu raises his eyebrows, casting Rei a look. “Certainly throws a bit of a wrench into your plans, my lord. Unless you do fancy being the eternal king of this entire country after all. Natsume, kitten, you had something important to say as well, didn’t you?”

Natsume nods, forcing himself to sit up no matter how he’d much rather remain hunched over and petted all day. “I…had a terrible dream,” he softly says. It takes effort to make the words come, but he has to. “I saw the Emperor kill Tsumugi.” 

Rei pauses, falling silent for a moment at that. “That certainly is a terrible dream,” he says. “Anything else?” 

“Just…things that have happened. The Emperor finding us. Having the prince again, and again…” Natsume’s face flushes, and he shakes his head. “Mika helping us escape. Even some of the smells have been the same, like throughout the whole capital, flowers everywhere…” He pauses. “Is Lord Wataru here?” 

“Yes. Still recovering.” 

Mika looks tense and unhappy at this, but Natsume just looks relieved. “Good. I saw him, too. I miss him. But…I wish that wasn’t true, in a way. I wanted something to be different and _wrong_.” 

“He’s asked for you,” Shu offers, stroking through Mika’s hair, moving down to press carefully on his joints, starting with neck and shoulders, releasing pressure. “Wataru. He’s asked us to bring you to him upon your return, but feel free to take your time. He deserves to wait.”

“I want to see him,” Natsume insists, looking back at Rei. “I want to talk to him. Maybe—with all of us, we can figure out a way to change things around. He can do something, he’s the Emperor’s _bonded_.” 

“We’ll talk about it more later,” Rei reassures him, and climbs to his feet to get the door before it’s even knocked upon. Koga scowls at them all, and shoves a tray into Rei’s hands.

“I’m not your maid, you old fart—“ 

“No, but you’re such a good doggy, aren’t you?” Rei hums, ruffling Koga’s hair thoroughly after setting the tray of tea and cakes down. Natsume doesn’t hesitate to snatch one up. “Check in with High Harbor for me.”

Koga frowns, then nods, and leaves with a quick, curt bow of his head to everyone else present. “There, we’re going to check on Tsumugi.” Rei drops back down, leaning back. “I don’t suppose either of you have any idea about the Emperor’s whereabouts now?”

“Nope,” Mika says softly, slowly starting to relax again underneath Shu’s careful touching. 

“Unfortunately, we still don’t know what he can do,” Shu admits. “He shows off so rarely. Even Wataru and that absolute imbecile in the dungeons haven’t been able to help us narrow down his true powers. He might need to take a horse, but he might just vanish in one place and reappear in another. Mika, lie down while I do maintenance, you can fall asleep if you need to.”

“Don’t wanna fall asleep,” Mika grumbles, but he complies, forcibly untangling himself from Shu to flop down with an uneven sigh. “I wanted to beat him up,” he crossly adds. “But there were people around, and then the prince went to him instead of coming with us, and we had to leave him behind. Izumi was so upset…” 

“This sounds like quite a confrontation,” Shu murmurs, fingers darting along pressure points with surgical precision. “I can hear--did you _fight_ him, Mika? Your magic, he’s tainted bits of it, as if you were in contact with him.”

“Maaaybe.” Mika sags down with a pleased little sound, his eyelashes fluttering. “I laid out a lot of cat’s cradle around the prince ‘cause I ain’t stupid enough to leave him to his own devices like everyone else. And then I caught the Emperor in it because fuck him.” 

Rei lets out a snort of disbelief. “Challenging Eichi directly in combat…you’ve more balls than most. Good job, little bird, I hope he’s shaken.” 

“Nn. Wish I could’ve gotten a trace on him of any kind…but at least the Faerie’s good for that, right?” 

“He must be quite weak, I can feel bits of him on your magic.” Shu combs his hands above Mika’s shoulder, then lets violet fire burn the excess bits away. “You did very well, I’m certain that you scared him senseless. Wataru was quite forthcoming about how much difficulty they’ve both been in.”

“Good. To hell with them.”

“Is Lord Wataru all right?” Natsume asks, his brow furrowing. “I know after you ripped his wings away…” 

“He’ll be fine. Injury has…at least made him open his mouth a bit more. We’ve discovered some interesting things about him,” Rei diplomatically answers, picking up his cup of tea. “Namely, the nature of his bond with Eichi.” 

“Rei, please don’t spoil it. Wataru did _so_ wish to make the grand reveal himself,” Shu chides. “That sort of thing is all he really lives for, these days.”

“I don’t know how that’s something to _live for_ , it’s disturbing,” Rei sniffs. “Albeit convenient for us.” 

Natsume looks between both Rei and Shu, then climbs to his feet, brushing crumbs off of his dress. “I want to go talk to him, right now.”

“Not gettin’ up,” Mika grunts, turning his head to the side to stuff it into a cushion more thoroughly. “Don’t care. _I_ wanted to run off to the North, to where there are warmin’ stones…” 

“He’s in the high tower to the left of the King’s audience chamber,” Shu says, waving a hand. “Highest room. It used to be the wizard’s tower, but we’ve redubbed it the Birdcage. He seems to like it quite a bit.”

“I’ll find him. But _why_ haven’t you installed proper portals to places around here yet? In High Harbor, I could just hit something with a hammer, and—“ 

Rei spreads his hands sympathetically, nearly pouring his tea into his lap in the process. “Whoops. This is why I’m not usually up during daylight hours. But I know, I know. A construction flaw, blame human engineering.” 

Natsume huffs. “Also, later, a lady’s proper shoes. I can’t believe you’re making me run around a palace like some kind of a _hick._ ” 

Mika makes a grumpy noise, pulling his hair back into his face. “He’s too much for me,” he mutters. “Cute, but so much, like a real noble lady. Master, I’m tired.” 

“Go, kitten,” Shu urges, tucking Mika back onto his lap. “I have my hands full, and you’re disturbing his sleep. You aren’t the only small creature who needs to curl up someplace warm. Rei, didn’t you see the shoes that match the gown in the dresser? I told you I should have done it...”

“You were preoccupied, love, and—oh, the kitty’s gone,” Rei mildly says, watching Natsume flee without another word. “I’ll never understand cats. Dogs, those are the best.” 

It turns out, palaces are much larger than estate manors—but that doesn’t deter Natsume, not when he has a _plan._

Finding Wataru takes more time than he’d like to admit, after getting turned around a couple of times, and being generally too stubborn to ask for directions. To be fair, anyone that he runs into seems to avoid him outright, or if it’s a man, their gaze lingers for too long, which is unsettling after the easy-going respect he’s used to from High Harbor when he’s dressed properly like a woman. 

Eventually, when he reaches the tower, it’s a relief. The door is unlocked, but there’s aspiraling web of magic around the entire area that he can feel the second he touches the door. _You can come in, you can come out, but Wataru can’t._

“…Lord Wataru?” The door creaks open, and Natsume peers inside warily. The scenery, unfortunately, matches up exactly with his vision, which makes his heart sink. No mater how he tries to pull away from that prophecy, it just keeps lining up. 

“Natsume?” The voice sounds weary, but delighted, perhaps even relieved. “Amazing! Come up, little one, come up, I have a bird for you to meet. There are a great many stairs, of course, but the view is unparalleled!”

Natsume quickly picks up his skirts to take the stairs faster—which there are, indeed, a great many of. “I’m not here to meet a bird,” he calls up in protest. “I’m here to _see you._ Ah, this is too many stairs, who would want to live here?” 

Wataru stands in the middle of his birdcage, an opulent chamber filled with glittering cages, most of which stand open to let the birds in and out as they wish. He’s smiling, but his eyes are creased more deeply than usual at the edges, and he holds his arms outstretched. “Come and hug me, it’s been far too long since I’ve been able to remember your face. Ah! You look amazing!”

Natsume nearly trips over himself to get to Wataru quickly enough, and launches himself into his chest, clinging to him with all the strength in his arms. His vision swims for a moment—there’s too _much_ surrounding Wataru, not in the physical sense, but in the sense of…what will be, what hasn’t quite happened yet, and it makes his mind blur at the edges for a moment as he tries to drag himself back to the present. It’s strange as much as it is familiar to feel that again after so long, and Natsume rocks back with a shiver, finally letting himself stare up at Wataru’s face. “If Lord Rei’s not being nice to you, I’ll beat him up _myself_ ,” he very seriously says. 

“My champion,” Wataru declares, eyes twinkling as he crushes Natsume in a hug. Then he winces, releasing him as he reaches for an elegant golden cane, using it to walk over to one of his perches. His Nightcloak is draped over a chair, and he currently wears a simple white shirt and trousers, the shirt sheer enough to show many layers of bandages around his back. “Ah, I’d forgotten how fierce you are. My apologies, little one, that I had to lock up my memories of you for so long. I couldn’t think of any other way to keep you safe.”

Natsume trails after him immediately, resisting the urge to latch onto Wataru’s arm. “It doesn’t matter,” he unhappily says, fiddling with a ruffle on his dress. “The Emperor found out about me anyway. He came to the West, where I was, and saw me. I…I’m sorry. You and Rei did so much to keep me hidden and safe, and still…” 

“It was never forever,” Wataru says gently, stroking Natsume’s hair. “Nothing is. All I wanted to do was ensure that you grew up to be, well, this! A bright, talented, intuitive, _amazing_ young person with all the flair in the world, and look at you!”

“Lord Shu says the Emperor wants to lock me in a cage and only feed me enough to give him prophecies. It’s not like he’ll like all of them,” Natsume insists, butting up into Wataru’s touch. “So what’s the point of _that_?” His eyes flicker away to the thick layer of bandages, and he worries at his lower lip. “…I’ve been trying to find out a way to get your wings back, but no one wants to tell me.” 

“Then I’ll be a penguin for a while,” Wataru says with a laugh. “Perhaps I’ll learn to be the world’s best swimmer, eh? Don’t worry about me, little one. The Emperor may have his eye on you, but I’ll never allow anyone to bring you to harm while there’s breath in my lungs.”

“…What if he kills someone else important to me?” 

Natsume looks around for a place to sit that doesn’t currently have a fluttery bird on it, finds nothing, and decides that standing is still his best bet. “How do you stop a prophecy from coming true?” he forthrightly asks, staring up at Wataru intently. “If anyone knows, you know. And you’ll _tell me._ Lord Rei won’t say anything, neither will Lord Shu, and I don’t like that.” 

“Stop it from being possible,” Wataru says immediately. He gestures, and a sofa appears, seemingly from midair, though the air beneath it is suspiciously free of bird droppings. He sits carefully on the cushions, with just a bit of a wince. “The future is changeable, of course! Find something, even something small, in your vision, and change it. Our universe is one of chaos, little cat, and anything may happen! Of course, in changing it, something worse may easily happen.”

“I don’t know what could be worse,” Natsume admits, gingerly dropping down next to Wataru and smoothing out his skirts. “In the vision, he kills Tsumugi.” Every time he says those words, it feels more real, and dread drops into the pit of his stomach. “And it’s happening so fast—every time I try to change something, it’s already happened. This, for example,” he says, gesturing to the room. “I’m already here. I thought I had more time.” 

“Hm.” Wataru cocks his head, looking around the room. “That cage over there--was it open? Standing just so?”

Natsume’s eyes narrow. “Yes? I think so?” 

Wataru stands with a grunt, then picks up the empty cage, turns it upside down, and smashes it to the ground. A few birds nearby bate and flutter, but the casual destruction seems to be nothing terribly new. “Not anymore! Your vision is wrong, now.”

“I…suppose?” Natsume hedges, blinking back at him wide-eyed. “But is something like that really enough? I mean, I suppose no one knows that for sure,” he adds, answering his own question with a sigh. “I thought about trying to contact him, to warn him personally, but something in my gut says that’s what I was _supposed_ to do, so I’m not. Can you…can you contact the Emperor?” It’s a longshot, but he _has_ to ask. He’s wanted to for days. “Tell him I’ll read the future for him, if that’s what he wants—so long as he doesn’t kill Tsumugi.” 

“You know that isn’t what he wants,” Wataru says softly, reaching out to touch Natsume’s hair. “Even I can’t see what’s in his heart, but...I will ask him, if you want me to. Please be certain, before I contact him. It will summon the Emperor here, eventually, to take what he wants from you, but I cannot guarantee his response.”

“What do you mean, even you can’t see what’s in his heart?” Natsume protests, leaning up into the touch, grabbing at the front of Wataru’s shirt. “You’re bonded to him, aren’t you? If anyone knows him, it’s _you_ , and you _have_ to—Tsumugi hasn’t done anything and he doesn’t deserve to die now!” 

“Oh, did Rei not tell you? I’m not bonded to him. Well, I am! But look at me, little one. Really look at that bond.” Wataru extends his hand, palm-up. “Go on. As hard as you can.”

Natsume stares back at him warily for a moment before he takes Wataru’s hand, not entirely sure of what he’ll find. Reading Wataru’s palm is one thing, but searching for the bond that he expects to find immediately is peculiar. That glowing, golden cord creaks underneath his touch, making him jerk back the moment he finds it, laced around Wataru’s fingers, looped about his neck, shimmering into a field of view that only he can see in the strangest of ways. “It’s…” His fingers trace the similarly looped line of Wataru’s palm, his eyes unfocusing. “It’s tied around you. It’s…mechanical?” 

“Your face! Amazing! Ah, no one has ever been able to see it before.” Wataru brings his hand back, folding it with his other, trembling slightly. “It’s almost a relief. Yes, yes, he decided after my predecessor that he was unable to bond to a human after all. So he changed me. Very intelligent, don’t you think?”

“Horrifying,” Natsume whispers, blinking hard to make his eyes focus back on the world only humans can see again, which is easier said than done, _knowing_ what’s there. “What’s the _point_? I thought bonds were supposed to be like…like what Lord Rei and Lord Shu have. Why would he change you if it’s nothing like that at _all_? Can you even sense him, and what he’s feeling? Does it even feel any different when you touch him?”

Wataru reaches out a hand, and a dove alights on his finger, where he strokes its feathers, then scritches its crest. “It feels electric,” he says, a tiny shiver going through his finger. “Like lightning. I hear his voice when he wants me to, and he hears mine. When he touches me, when I want to feel him, it’s...like lightning, through my veins, instead of blood. It hurts. But it is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before, which is amazing at my age!”

“That sounds _bad_ ,” Natsume bluntly says, frowning, his hands dropping to his hips. “So does that mean you’re not really in love with him or anything? Isn’t that what bonds are supposed to _be?_ If this is fake, then…” After all of the things Shu has told him, it’s almost impossible for him to understand why anyone would ever want to be in the Emperor’s presence, let alone _love_ him, let alone have something binding themselves to him like Wataru has. 

“I love him, in my way, I suppose,” Wataru says with a sigh. “And I think he loves me in his. He was willing to go through all this trouble, wasn’t he? And I am...fascinated by him. But I’ve always warned him, of course.” His eyes glitter suddenly, making him look far less human than any half-blood. “That I would be loyal to him as long as he never took his eyes off of me.”

Natsume’s breath hitches, but he refuses to flinch back. Instead, he tentatively reaches forward, curling his fingers slowly around the tail end of Wataru’s hair. “And…he did?” he ventures quietly. “Didn’t he? With the prince.” 

“They tell me one cannot choose to whom one forges a resonant bond,” Wataru says, letting the bird walk over his fingers, his smile frozen on his face. “Eichi spent decades trying to tell me that was not the case. Then he proved it true. I suppose he cannot be faulted for being human. But I will fault him for it anyway.”

“Come here, my little songbird.” 

_Natsume shivers, and clutches more tightly at Wataru’s hair. “Then…you’ll side with us,” he presses, stepping closer. “You’ll help. You know all there is to know about him, don’t you? You can help us—help me, I just want Tsumugi safe.” He blinks hard, startled at the abrupt sting of tears in his eyes. “Lord Wataru, you have to. Then Lord Rei can have the Academy, the prince can have this stupid throne, you can be my teacher again.”_

Wataru sighs, and the bird flutters away. “I suppose. That might teach him a lesson, I suppose. Don’t cry, don’t cry, I don’t understand why you’re doing that. What would you like me to say to him? Our bond is degrading rather quickly, I don’t think your Tsumugi’s way of killing Eichi will even work.”

“I…I don’t know what to say to him,” Natsume admits, glancing aside. “I don’t know what makes him the way he is, or why he’s doing this. I don’t even know why he’d want to kill Tsumugi—he didn’t _do_ anything, at least, not recently, and he’s been doing his best to stay out of this, I _know._ ” He hesitates, twisting Wataru’s hair in his fingers. “Except…he…wanted to kill you, didn’t he. That’s how he would’ve tried to kill the Emperor. Tell the Emperor he won’t do that, tell him I won’t let him.”

“He wasn’t going to kill me. That wouldn’t work on someone like Eichi, little one.” Wataru looks at Natsume, as if he wants to reach out, but doesn’t quite understand what a normal person would do. “A half-blood likely wouldn’t die, if their bonded were to die. Oh, they might, but unless the bond were quite strong, they’d likely just...well.” Wataru’s smile fades completely. “I believe Tsumugi thinks that the only way to kill Eichi is if I were to kill myself, knowing it would kill him. But he doesn’t know the truth about our bond.”

“…I see. Well, don’t do that _either_. You’re not allowed to.” Natsume huffs up at him, frustrated. “Then tell me—how _do_ you kill him? I can’t think of a way to reason with him, and…there doesn’t seem to be a way, anyway. Before you say it, the prince isn’t allowed to kill himself either, not if everything else is going to work out.”

Wataru laughs, spreading his arms wide. “I haven’t the faintest idea! Isn’t it amazing to have so many things that are unknown?”

“Not when someone _I_ care about could _die!_ ” Natsume eyes well with tears, and he releases Wataru’s hair before brushing past him abruptly, storming back towards the stairs. “I should’ve known you couldn’t _understand_ , you’re the same way he is!” 

The door slams, the sound echoing from its frame, only to open a few moments later with a far lighter knock preluding it. “Here to clean up after you and your terrible birds, Milord,” comes the weary voice of a short, average blond boy. “Did you scare off that pretty girl? You should be ashamed of yourself, it’s not like anyone else wants to visit you.” 

“Quite right, Tomoya, quite right,” Wataru says sadly, leaping up to sit in the windowsill. “Come closer, boy, tell me more about how horrific I am. Would you like me to get you a dress like that? You would look so much less terribly ordinary.”

“You know, Milord, that’s not exactly a compliment? Ugh…why do I even bother trying to explain it to you,” Tomoya grouses, starting about the task of scrubbing bird droppings off of every damned surface. “Instead of being rude, you could, I don’t know, try to _stop_ being so…the way you are.” 

“How does one stop being the way one is?” Wataru asks, trilling with amusement. “What an adorable child you are!”

“By making an attempt? What kind of question is that, you lunatic?” Tomoya growls, pushing his bangs out of his face. “This is why you have no friends, and why the friends you’ve got lock you up in a tower.” 

“So cruel, yet so accurate. Come here, come here, I think you’ve missed a spot. And you wouldn’t want it reported to your dear employer that you’ve gotten sloppy, would you?” Wataru gestures at a large splat on the floor near his lounging sofa, eyes twinkling.

“You don’t deserve a pretty girlfriend, you deserve to be pushed out of this tower,” Tomoya mutters, bending down to scrub at the spot in question. “When do you get to leave? Soon, I hope.” 

“So eager to come with me? Don’t worry, little Tomoya. I’ll never let you leave my sight--I mean, employ!” Wataru laughs. It’s so much easier to put on his mask when this boy is around.

“Please don’t flatter yourself, Milord. I’m not interested in going _anywhere_ with you.” Tomoya looks up at him tiredly. “But honestly, when can I expect that you’ll be set free? Everyone’s been talking around the palace today, something about the prince and him defecting? Does that mean they’re going to let you go, now that you’ve fooled everyone into thinking _you’re_ innocent and harmless?” 

Wataru’s face falls into a scowl. “You’re spoiling everything, you know. I’m quite harmless! And as innocent as the driven snow, though one must be warned that the driven snow can give you quite a bit of frostbite, unless you’re careful.”

“And that’s the problem, isn’t it. Learn to behave yourself properly and be a part of normal society already,” Tomoya scolds, straightening up. “How long’s it been since you’ve acted like a normal human? If you’re no longer following the Emperor around, you’re going to need to figure it out.” 

“Nonsense, just because he’s left his broken-winged faerie behind like a wadded up dishrag doesn’t mean he isn’t _returning_ for me,” Wataru says, with all the enthusiasm he can muster. “What about you, boy? What are your dreams?”

“None of your business. Certainly none of your business if you keep talking like a traitor,” Tomoya says with a sniff, and grabs his bucket, moving to the other side of the room. “As harmless as frostbite, indeed.” 

“Traitor? I’ve been loyal my whole life, Tomoya. To my Emperor. Why should that be any less valid than someone else’s loyalty?”

“He’s not really the Emperor anymore, is he?” Tomoya wearily points out. “So I guess even calling him that is wrong and a little bit traitorous.” 

Wataru raises an eyebrow, then reaches out lightning-fast, grabbing the boy’s arm and dragging him close. “Ahh, you’re only seeing me at my weakest, but in my prime, my lad...I would have fetched you from the other side of the room, all the better to drag you to my side.”

“Did you just…did you just dislocate your entire arm to grab me?” Tomoya asks, his voice a little shrill as his face flushes dark red. “W-w-what do you even mean by that, how about don’t? You, ah, this is highly, um, inappropriate, you know—“ 

Well, that certainly makes Wataru feel quite energetic. The boy’s little struggles make his arm tighten, if anything, and he beams, dragging Tomoya into his lap. “Ah, but you think I’m a traitor, so what could I do that is possibly appropriate? Perhaps I should be truly dastardly, don’t you think?”

“No—no, that’s fine, thank you!” Tomoya squeaks, flailing to get away, and subsequently failing as he’s pulled right into Wataru’s lap. This close to him, it’s impossible _not_ to continuously blush. _Oh, gods, he’s so beautiful, help me._ “Um! Milord, would you—ah—please let me go?” 

“Ah...no thank you!” Wataru says cheerily, wrapping a strong arm around Tomoya’s waist, hooking his chin over Tomoya’s shoulder to purr in his ear. “Besides...you don’t truly want me to let you go, do you, boy?”

“W-why are you doing this all of a sudden?” Tomoya barely manages to whisper out, his eyes as wide as saucers. He _can’t_ answer that, absolutely not. “I—you—y-you’re like a goddess, you can’t…possibly…” 

“A goddess? Is that what you want me to be? Ah--one moment--how embarrassing, it’s never taken me a moment to do this before, but I’ve never been quite so wounded before--”

Without letting go of Tomoya, Wataru ripples, then shivers, changing, his form shifting until he sits begowned in a dress reaching down past his feet, glittering with gems studded into the fabric, his hair coming free from its braids to wrap itself up in a high bun. “This sort of a goddess, my boy?”

Tomoya squeaks. “I…I mean…t-technically, but—I think you look like a goddess all the time!” He tries to squirm away, but Wataru is so _weirdly_ strong. “If I tell you that you don’t need to do anything special, will you please let me go? I—you’re very troubling whenever you do strange things like this, you know!” 

“But letting you go would be doing something special!” Wataru crows, but he finally lets go, folding his hands behind his head. “Go on, then. I’ve had my fun, you can scurry away and tell everyone the terrifying creature in the tower had his way with you, and you barely escaped with your virtue.”

“I’m going to say just that!” Tomoya bolts away, snatching up his bucket and trying not to look _so_ obviously flustered. “You know, if you want someone to be nice to you, don’t be so…so _extra_. Just be normal! Ugh, I know all wizards aren’t like this, but you’re the worst of the bunch!” 

“Yes, thank you, I’m quite the worst,” Wataru says, dropping back onto the couch, closing his eyes and trying not to see lightning. “Leave the hooded falcon in his cage, please. Ah...perhaps I will keep the dress, for the moment.”

Tomoya huffs at him. “I’ll see you when I bring up your dinner, I guess,” he mumbles, and promptly slams the door shut behind himself, sending half a dozen birds fluttering. 


	47. Chapter 47

Getting out of the Palace is easy. Arashi just walks out, shoulders squared, head held high.

Getting back in should be just as easy. But with the state of his face and the bundle he’s concealing with one arm under his cloak, he has a hell of a time getting past the guards. Instead, he scales one wall, dropping down into the courtyard, pressing himself back against the walls, staying in the shadows whenever anyone happens by. The bundle, tucked against his side and feeling heavier every minute, doesn’t help. 

Finally, he knocks on Izumi’s door with a few heavy knocks. “I really hope this is you, darling,” he calls softly. “I need your fancy skills, please.”

Barely a moment passes before the lock on the door clicks open, and Izumi cracks it open, confirming visually that it’s Arashi before he opens the door further. “You look like a bloody mess,” he says, though the flutters of anxiety start to fade just with Arashi’s presence. It’s _so_ much more difficult being here than he thought it would be, and he already thought it would be difficult, especially when he’s made a firm vow with himself to _not_ run outside of the city again to see his mother and cry on her shoulder. “Come inside, let me fix you. Mika hasn’t seen you looking like this, has he?” 

“No, no, I just came to see you right away.” Arashi grins through bloody teeth, then pulls back his cloak, revealing a skinny, silver-haired toddler, who blinks up at Izumi, then reaches for him with grubby, blood-streaked hands. “I had trouble finding all of them,” Arashi says quietly. “They’ve gone underground. But then I saw her.”

Izumi’s mouth goes dry. “Oh. Shit.” 

Instinct makes him grab for her, plucking her right out of Arashi’s arms. “Where…where did you find her? Who’s is she? I…I know Lady Karn died during childbirth, but the other two…” 

“Hennessy.” Arashi raises a hand to his face, wincing when it stings, coming into contact with the slashes and bruises on his face. “Fix me up, please, I look so ugly. Ugh, that man does _not_ fight fair, he said he’d duel me, then kicked me to his guards.” He nods at the little girl. “Found her with a rag in her hands, wiping shoes in front of Hennessy’s entryway. She can’t be more than three. I think I scared her, with my face like this.”

A sudden, low-burning spike of anger makes Izumi move fast, and he switches the girl to his other arm before catching Arashi’s chin between careful, but still trembling fingers. The bruises and cuts on Arashi’s face heal perhaps _too_ quickly, and Izumi pulls his hand away, sucking in a deep, calming breath. It doesn’t help. “I hope,” he slowly says, cradling her to his shoulder, stroking a hand against her hair, “that you gutted him and made him eat his own shit-stained intestines before he died.” 

“Wow, that made my head spin,” Arashi murmurs, eyes glazing slightly. “Ah, I didn’t get that technical about it, but I absolutely did kill him damn good. Sorry, only one down, but I thought getting her somewhere safe should take priority. Tell the nice man your name, darling.”

The little girl blinks up, then slowly fists a hand in Izumi’s shirt. “Elia,” she whispers, then hides her face, letting her hair fall in front of her eyes.

Izumi almost curses again, but that’s probably not the sort of thing one should do around children. Maybe. He doesn’t know, but his heart clenches a little, and he sucks in another slow breath as he looks back up at Arashi. “Thank you,” he quietly says. “Thank you, so much. Sorry, I didn’t mean to rush everything, do you need anything else fixed?” 

“My arm. They didn’t get it, I pulled it out climbing the wall to get out of questions about her.” He holds it up, wincing, shoulder puffed up to twice its normal size. “Worth it, but ouch.”

“I could kiss you right now,” Izumi says with a hoarse laugh, and reaches out, much more gentle in his pace this time as his fingers curl around Arashi’s upper arm. “See, Elia, this here is what we like to call a man of honor up in the North,” he mutters. 

Slowly, the little girl reaches up, brow furrowed as she reaches for Izumi’s hair. 

Arashi sighs, gratefully rotating his shoulder. “Loads better, thanks. Remind me never to get rid of you. Ah, yes, sweetheart, see his hair? Look familiar?”

“You gotta put it up,” she whispers. “Not ‘lowed.”

“No, to hell with that.” There’s that biting anger again, and Izumi forces himself to shove it down. Scaring his own kid isn’t allowed. “Whoever told you that was wrong. Lord Hennessy—he’s wrong.” Izumi swallows, and drops back down onto the foot of his bed, setting her in his lap, and gently pushes the uncut mess of her hair out of her face. “I’m your Papa now, so you don’t ever have to listen to him again.” 

“I don’t, don’t have any Papa,” she says, starting to squirm in his arms. “I gotta get my rag, I’m s’posed to have my rag...”

“No, love, no—look, our hair’s the same, right? Look.” Izumi gently pulls her back, dragging his ponytail over his shoulder, letting it match up to hers exactly. “That’s how you know I’m your Papa. And…and you don’t need that rag, you’re a _lady_ , just like your Mama.” He looks briefly back up to Arashi, stressed and obviously at a loss. “Was her mother anywhere to be found? Not that I should care, if she let her be treated like that. Gods, if the other two have been living like this…” 

The little girl stops struggling, but reaches up for his hair again, turning it over and over in her grubby fingers, as if unable to believe it’s real. 

“Her mother left to live with family in the country,” Arashi says softly. “Or so the servants told me. I get the feeling it was more about being sent away than leaving, but I didn’t meet the lady.”

“Madame Karla gives me food,” Elia says, winding silver hair around one finger, “but she’s not my Mama. Mamas is for ladies. I got a rag.”

“You’re a lady,” Izumi tells her firmly, climbing to his feet and pulling more of his hair over his shoulder for her to hold onto as he picks her up again. “A lady of the North. And you’re going to be a pretty, sweet-smelling lady of the North starting now. Gods, who around here likes children, I know absolutely nothing and I need to go hunting for the other two, right now, but I can’t just _leave_ her…” 

“Mika,” Arashi says immediately. “We’ll go together, you’re not taking off without me.”

“Do you think he’d mind me dropping her off with him?” Izumi asks, chewing on his lower lip. “You don’t have to come out with me. You just got back in. I…I just have to do something, I knew it would be bad, but I thought for some reason—I don’t know. Gods, I’m an idiot.” 

“Yeah, these assholes with you in their hands? No thanks? Ah, sorry for cursing in front of Milady.”

Elia doesn’t seem to care, nestling forward against Izumi’s chest, clutching at his shirt as if it’s her new rag.

“Anyway. Come on, follow me, I’ll take you to him.” Arashi smiles fondly. “He loves kids, always has sweets in his pockets for them.”

“Thank you,” Izumi murmurs again, stopping only to grab his sword at the door and one-handedly buckle it to his hip before following at Arashi’s heels. “Of course he loves kids,” he has to joke, needing to dissipate some of his own tension. “Between you and him, I’ve got two perfect ladies to marry.” 

“We’re about to have three children,” Arashi says cheerfully, tossing back the hood of his cloak, leading the way. “I should certainly hope you’ll be willing to provide for both of your wives.”

Izumi nearly trips over his own feet. “You know, there’s a huge difference between _hearing it_ and actually having one of them in my arms,” he says with a nervous laugh. “If I’m smart, I hand them to my mother before she leaves for the North. Or at least, the ones I can find…” 

“Izumi of the Northern Sena house,” Arashi snaps, “you did _not_ enlist me to help you steal children that you’re going to pawn off on someone! Welcome to fatherhood, brat. I’m sure your mother will tell you the same.”

“No, no, you’re misunderstanding!” Izumi protests, quickening his pace to walk alongside Arashi. “I’m talking about for their safety—gods, they’re just targets here, that’s all I meant! If I wanted to skip fatherhood, I wouldn’t be hunting for them in the first place, _honestly._ ” 

Arashi huffs. “All right. I really thought you were trying to fob them off, and I was about to box your ears. Here, this is him.” He waves to a guard, who nods, then lets him through. “Mika! Darling! I have something to show you!”

“Nnh?” Mika looks up from where he’s sprawled on his stomach, feet kicked up behind him as he works on his first sewing project in months—and it’s definitely a snog, Izumi observes wearily. What the fuck. “No way. You’ve got a mini-Izumi!”

“Her name’s Elia,” Izumi introduces, anxiety heavy in his words as he gently shifts her around in his arms. “Elia, this is Mika.” 

Mika bites off the thread from his needle and stabs it into his pincushion before sitting up and reaching out for her. “Aren’t you the prettiest thing? Jus’ like your Papa. Big blue eyes, too, you’re gonna be a charmer.” 

Elia opens her mouth, then shuts it and looks down at the ground, fumbling for her skirt as if to curtsy. “Yessir,” she whispers, looking down at her toes.

“Be gentle with her, _amaka_ ,” Arashi says quietly. “Like you would a child from your homeland, though I don’t think...”

Mika slides off of his sofa onto the floor, and flutters a hand for Izumi to set Elia down onto her feet. Reluctantly, Izumi does so, and Mika fumbles into the pocket of his robes, pulling out a couple of pieces of candy, just as Arashi said he would. “Here, wanna share? It’s not the fancy stuff, that it messes with my tummy, but it’s still good.” 

Elia puts a hand to her mouth, then giggles. “You said tummy. Like a kid!” 

“We’re going to go,” Arashi says, nudging Izumi’s shoulder. “She might have some S - I - S - T - E - R - S we have to go find.” He frowns. “Wait. You can read in Common, right? I never asked."

Mika rolls his eyes. “Like Master would put up with me if I couldn’t,” he dryly says, popping a piece of candy into his mouth and then unwrapping one for Elia. “Go on, we’re gonna have some fun and learn about snogs.” 

Izumi hesitates, glued to the spot for a moment before he lets himself be nudged along by Arashi. “Gods, I’m in debt to both of you for the rest of my life,” he bemoans. “Even if she’s going to grow up to be a snog-lover.” 

“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Arashi assures him. “At least she won’t grow up to be one of those useless court ladies that screams and jumps on a table if they see a mouse or a spider. I mean, she’ll probably be the kind that scoops it up and names it Melvin, so take what you can get.”

“Sounds like the kinds of girls I grew up with,” Izumi wryly admits, and fiddles with his cloak for a moment before giving into the urge to pull his hood over his head. “There’s still a lot of the same staff around here,” he says, the humor dropping from his voice. “I’m sure Rei thoroughly checked them out, but I still just…don’t know who’s on who’s side. I heard Duke Rohan escaped as well, so all Rei really has in that dungeon is the king himself, and whoever decided to disagree with him when he showed up.” 

“So we’re looking for Blake, Haskett, Rains, and Wynne, right? Which ones have the kids?”

“Karn and Rains. Leo already killed Lord Karn, and his wife has been dead, so I haven’t the slightest clue what they’ve done with the kid by now,” Izumi wearily admits. “And I had an affair with her for _years_. Maybe they tried to pass her off as legitimate at this point to keep the house? I honestly don’t know what Capital nobles do to preserve their lines when their men can’t get it up except with pretty boys. No offense intended.” 

“No idea, I didn’t grow up a noble. I mostly hang out with soldiers, you know,” Arashi points out. “I don’t even know where Rains lives. Or did you want to go by Karn’s place first and whack around his guardsmen until they give us an answer?”

The mere idea of going near that house makes Izumi break into a cold sweat, but he forces himself to nod. “I’m never going to get over it until I do, I guess,” he says with a forced laugh. “And he’s dead. Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that part out loud. Just reminding myself.” 

“I’m never going to make you do it,” Arashi says with a shrug. “I said I’d do it myself, you’re the one who’s tagging along. If anything, you’re just here to hold babies while I get myself on the most wanted list.”

“You’re fucking the Demon Queen’s…whatever Mika is, you’ll never be on the most wanted list,” Izumi points out. “I know you said you’d do it, I know—I just—didn’t expect the visceral reaction of wanting to gut anyone that’s ever been mean to my kids. That’s all.” 

“But that’s so cute, it’s like you’re a real person with feelings and everything. Let’s go steal some more kids, huh?” Arashi offers, and links his arm through Izumi’s. “Where are we off to first? Rains, or Karn?”

“Shut up,” Izumi politely tells him, even as he knocks his head briefly against Arashi’s shoulder. “Karn. Let’s get the worst over with first, so I can maybe get some of these nerves out of my system.” 

“You know where it is, I assume?” Along with a convenient window to climb through.

“Like I went there yesterday,” Izumi says wearily. “Let’s go do this before I run away crying.” 

“Lead the way. I’ve got your back.”


	48. Chapter 48

The one saving grace about his bastards is that they’re all _unmistakably_ his, even in the case of the Karn girl, with a very expensive wig tossed over her natural hair. 

It’s a sick sort of relief to see her being taken care of. With both of her parents dead, she’s the lady of the house, with a tutor and nanny at her side calling her _Milady_. The idea of pulling her out of that situation, where she’s already being raised by people that aren’t her parents, and tossed into another one with less money, less prestige… “Forget it,” Izumi murmurs, already starting back down the window trellis that he scaled countless times just years prior. “I can’t do that to her.” _Maybe later, if anything changes._

The Rains household, however, is different. He has his own legitimate children, which he’s taken into hiding, and he himself and his lady are also gone without a trace. Roughing up their guards and staff does little, until one of the lady’s attendants—one left behind, and obviously annoyed about it—sneaks her way over to Izumi after the fact. 

“She was tossed onto the streets, Milord, about six months ago—one of the Capital orphanages picked her up, on the west side, I think? But I don’t know much more than that.” 

It’s not much, but it’s something. “Thank you,” Izumi says, and politely avoids the grab at his laces that she tries to pull before they leave. 

“I don’t even know where to start,” he groans, tilting his head back to stare skyward as they ride back. “Why are noblemen such scum? What if she’s dead, or turned into a prostitute to survive, or—gods know what? And children aside, how do we flush those rats out of hiding—that’s only two dead, and now they’re probably talking and know I’m here.” 

“Even the bad orphanages in the Capital don’t sell them to brothels at that age,” Arashi assures him. “And if they know you’re here, _good_. They’ll all be terrified--two of them are dead, and you’re cozy with the Demon King, and they’ll never see me coming. Let them piss themselves for a while. Ah...you, boy!”

An urchin perks up, eyes tracking immediately down to Arashi’s coinpurse, dangling from his belt. “Milord?”

“How many orphanages in the West side?”

“Five,” the boy says promptly. 

“How many would scoop children off the streets?”

“Ah...just th’ two, Milord. You lookin’ for a girl, or a boy?”

“Girl.”

“You want Patsa’s. I can shows you, if you make it worth me while.”

Arashi raises an eyebrow at Izumi, then pulls a silver noble out of his purse. “Make it quick, his horse is hungry.”

Skeptical as he is, Izumi follows. “You ever seen so many flower vendors in your life?” he wryly comments, shaking his head. The entire city resembles something of a garden now, which, if nothing else, has to be doing _wonders_ for morale and convincing citizens that the Demon King is something of a positive presence in their lives. 

The orphanage in question doesn’t exactly give him a warm, fuzzy feeling when they reach it, what with its high, boarded windows and the general look of a building that hasn’t been scrubbed down in years. Izumi exhales a sigh, and slides off of his horse, passing Vale’s reins to Arashi. “I’ll go in and ask about her,” he says. “Just wait out here.” 

Inside, Patsa takes one look at him, and he doesn’t even have to explain a single word. “That silver-haired hellbeast? To hell with her ungrateful little arse! You her sire?” the old woman snaps, hands on her hips. 

“I—well—“ 

“She decided it would be fun to toss her scrawny little butt out of the windows! Why do you think they’re all boarded up now? Good riddance to that demon creature, I’ve done as good by her as I can! Catch her running with one of those little beggar gangs, you’ll see them, you’ll know!

Izumi wipes his hands down his face as he leaves, hauling himself back onto Vale’s back. “My daughter apparently likes to throw herself out of windows for fun.” 

Arashi’s face goes pale. “She’s dead?”

“Nope. Apparently, that’s why the windows are boarded up. She _kept_ doing it.” 

“What the fuck? Oh. She’s _really_ yours, huh?”

The boy from earlier pops up, hungry eyes darting back to Arashi’s purse. “Milord? If you wanted to buy one, Patsa’s no good. They won’t sell ‘em until they bleed. You want a lil one, right?”

Arashi’s lip curls, and for the first time, he understands why some nobles whack street children out of the way. “I’m not here to _buy a child_ ,” he spits.

“My horse is a demon steed from the North, you want me to let him eat you?” Izumi deadpans, but he pulls a coin from his own purse all the same. “Have you seen a girl with hair the same color as mine?” Vale lurches against his reins, teeth gnashing against his bit. He’s just trying to get at the weeds next to the side of the road, but it’s still a scary display, Izumi knows. “Don’t lie or I’ll let him taste you.”

The boy’s eyes widen, but he feigns nonchalance, flipping Arashi’s coin in the air, moving to the other side of Neigh. “Maybe I has. Maybe I hasn’t. Ain’t a lie if I just sorta...forgot, right?”

“Two nobles.”

“Yep, I seen her,” the boy says suddenly, all smiles again. “For three I can take the fine gentlemen to her, too. Four an’ I can put in a good word with the bloke what owns her.”

“We both know a noble is more than your little gang will see in a year,” Arashi says with a sigh. “Don’t get greedy or we’ll sniff her out ourselves and you’ll get nothing. Or my friend’s horse will eat you.”

“Horses don’t eat folk.”

“He’s a _demon_ from the _North_ \--”

“Three nobles, I’ll take you both to her and talk to her boss.”

Arashi growls a little, but nods. “She can’t be, what, more than six? What kind of boss could she have?”

Nonetheless, the boy sets off down the street, and Arashi hurries to keep up.

“How ambitious do you think I was?” Izumi asks, horrified as he follows after as well. “I haven’t even had my nineteenth birthday, you ass! Gods, I can’t believe this. She’s either a prostitute or in a gang, she has a _boss_ —“ 

“I really thought this kind of thing was mostly in the Sandlands,” Arashi admits, looking down each grimy alleyway as if afraid to see amputees next. “And not for nothing, thirteen isn’t too young to marry and have children in the West, it’s part of why I ran away. You _told_ me you were lifting skirts at eleven.”

“Yes, but I’m pretty sure I can remember when I fucked a lady,” Izumi hisses. “And in the Capital, it’s unseemly to have children when you’re _so_ young, so I was trying to curb my hick blood a bit by pulling out most of the time! Ugh, I didn’t even know these parts of the Capital existed. Do you ever realize how good you’ve got it?” 

“I’ll never forget how good I have it after the Sandlands,” Arashi says gloomily. “Whatever may have happened to her, at least she’s alive, and she’s not down there.”

The idea of anything happening to his children along the lines of what happened to Mika makes Izumi’s blood run cold. “People are sick,” he mutters. “And this is taking forever.” Paranoia suddenly grips him, irrational and vice-tight, making a pit swiftly form in his stomach and his hand go to his sword, needing a reminder that it’s there. “What if he’s leading us into a trap? What if he works for any of those men?” 

“Fortunately,” Arashi says, raising his voice slightly, “we’re both dangerous soldiers with hundreds of kills to our name, and supernaturally unkillable. He’d have to be _very stupid_ to lead us into a trap.”

The boy looks back at him, then winks. “Just up here, Milords. You want I should get the boss first?”

“Sure, I’m feeling generous.”

The boy whistles, a few staccato bursts. A few seconds later, a slightly older boy, probably fifteen or so, saunters out of a nearby alcove, hands in the pockets of a very nice coat layered over tattered trousers. He gives Arashi and Izumi a little bow. His face is clean, and his eyes are glittering black under the brim of what is unmistakably a nobleman’s hat, for all that it’s too big for him. “Milords...no, Captain, yes? And...Lord Izumi, I think?”

“Well, don’t you think you’re hot shit,” Izumi mutters, frowning at the kid as he pulls Vale to a stop. It’s obnoxious that every single time he hears his name in the Capital now that his heart starts pounding in an entirely unpleasant way. _What do they know about me? What have they been talking about?_ “You’re their boss, then? I have a question for you.” 

“Ask away,” the boy offers, doffing his hat, revealing well-groomed hair swept back in a tie. “But keep civil. You may be lords, but ‘round here, I’m the king, eh?”

“Sure. It’s a simple question, fortunately.” Izumi pulls his ponytail around onto his shoulder. “A girl with hair like this. I’m looking for her.” 

The boy nods slowly, looking up at Izumi’s hair. “I know her. What’s she worth to you?”

“Bring her to me in good condition, and we can talk about that.” 

“Your daughter?” the boy asks, arching an eyebrow. “Or little sister? Either way, I don’t make a habit of lettin’ my people go to those that’s thrown ‘em on the street and left ‘em to orphanages. How’m I s’posed to know you’re gonna do right by the chit, Milord?”

“I’ve been away at war, and my name wasn’t exactly a favorable one in the Capital while I was away, _Your Majesty_ ,” Izumi says through grinding teeth. “I’ve only just been able to return, and that’s why I’m seeking her out now. If you’re so concerned, then wouldn’t you rather her raised like a noble lady than a little shit on the streets?” 

“He wants money,” Arashi says with a roll of his eyes. “Don’t you?”

The boy inspects his fingernails. “Gotta make sure she’s bein’ taken care of by someone as is willin’ to part with somethin’ fancy for her, eh?”

“Every man’s the goddamn same at the end of the day,” Izumi crossly says, unfastening his coin purse and dangling the whole of it. “Show her to me first.” 

The boy bows, then disappears into the shadows. All is quiet for a moment. Then, he re-emerges, holding the hand of a young girl that comes barely up to his waist, with close-cropped hair caked with dirt and Izumi’s sharp cheekbones. Though her hair is filthy, the rest of her is clean, though her shoes are too-large and her slip of a dress is patched in multiple places. She looks up at the boy holding her hand, and when he nods, she gives Izumi a cheeky little curtsy. Absently, she reaches up and scratches behind her ear, and a bit of dirt flakes away, revealing a short patch of silver below. Then she scowls up at the boy, pointing at the horse. “That’s too big! That’s, that’s a big horse, I need a little one, you said I was going on a horse!”

Apparently, that feeling of seeing one’s children for the first time doesn’t really _stop_ hurting him. Izumi slides off of Vale’s back, numbly tossing his coin purse to the boy, and kneels down to the girl’s height. “He’s a Northern horse, one fit for a proper lady,” he softly say. Vale, thankfully, decides to be an angel for once, and lowers his head, whickering lowly, sniffing in the girl’s direction. “What’s your name?” 

She looks up at the boy, who doesn’t bother looking down at her, letting go of her hand to count the coins with ever-widening eyes. She raises an hand to Vale, unafraid, and touches him on the nose. “Kinsley,” she says, deliberately, as if she’s had problems with the S sound herself in the past. At least the man seems nice, kneeling down to talk to her. And if he isn’t, well, she’s thrown herself out of windows before. Every place has a window.

But...

She reaches up, brow furrowed, to gently finger the end of Izumi’s ponytail. Then she looks up at his face, and demands, “Can you do it too?”

“Yes.” Izumi shifts, pulling a dagger from his boot, and holds out his hand for her to see how fast the line in his palm heals when he draws the dagger across it. Nowadays, it’s so stupidly fast that it starts closing up almost before it bleeds. “I heard you’ve tossed yourself out of a lot of windows. Doesn’t that hurt?” 

Kinsley nods, touching his palm, eyes alight. “Hurts,” she agrees. “But not s’much as staying. I hate locked doors. And I’m strong.”

“Fair enough.” Izumi tucks his dagger away again, and wipes the blood off of his hand before offering it to her. “If you come with me, you can have your own horse. I know this one’s really big, but he’s still fun to ride in the meantime.”

“I got a choice?” she asks, eyes wide as if this is the first time.

“I mean,” Izumi exhales, “I’d _like_ for you to come with me. But I’m not going to force you, if you like it here so much.” Izumi gingerly reaches over, brushing off some of the caked on dirt from her hair. “A proper Northern lady starts making her own decisions by the time she’s three, and sleeps in the bed of her own mistakes if they’re no good.” 

Kinsley looks around, as if someone is going to catch her exposed hair, then clenches her jaw. “I want a big horse. This one is good. Can I have it?”

Arashi snorts. “She’s yours, all right.”

“Is that true?” she demands. “Maj’sty said you’re my father. But girls that’s got fathers don’t go to Patsa’s.”

Izumi grimaces, and takes her hand as he climbs to his feet. “I’m your father,” he confirms, “and I’ve been away. But I’m back now, and you can have a big horse, but not this one. You don’t want him, he’s stupid. Have you ever ridden before?” 

She shakes her head, and a few more flakes of mud fall to the ground. She steps on one of them with distaste. “But I’m not afraid of fallin’. Do you have a house?”

“Mm, up in the North. Here, up we go.” 

He hoists Kinsley up into the saddle—too easily, she weighs _nothing_ —and pulls himself up behind her, picking up Vale’s reins. “But we’re staying in the Capital for right now, in the palace. Gods, your grandma’s going to think you’re delightful.” 

“I been to the palace before,” she says smugly, squirming in the saddle to get comfortable. “Me’n Toddy took soap an’ three roast chickens on Midwinter. I put ‘em in a bag an’ fell out the window.”

“No more falling out of windows,” Izumi wearily says, steadying her back against his chest. “Let’s get out of here, Arashi, I’ve felt too many emotions for one day.” 

“You think you should tell her about, ah, the S - I - S - T - E - R at the palace?” Arashi asks, hoping little weird four-year-old children don’t know how to spell. 

Kinsley snuggles back against Izumi’s chest, rubbing her dirty hair on his shirt, making more of the mud flake off. “If you’re my father...who’s my mother?” she asks, paying no attention to Arashi.

“I’m getting there,” Izumi grouses at him, and starts one-handedly picking some of the mud off of her. “Your mother’s a noble lady that got sent away,” he says. “So she’s not here anymore. You’ve got a sister, too, Elia. No one was nice to her when I was away, either, but that’s not going to happen again.” 

“A big sister?” she demands, twisting in the saddle. “Or a little sister?”

“A little sister. So that means you’ll have to be sweet to her, she’s a lot more shy than you.” 

Kinsley nods slowly, and folds her arms over her chest against the cold. “I’m gonna keep her safe, then,” she decides. “Can she do it too?”

“I’m not sure.” Izumi pulls his cloak around her, sheltering her from the wind. “You know most people can’t, right?” he gently presses. “You’ve got to be careful about who you tell.” 

“Only told you ‘cause of the hair,” she grumbles. “I’m smart. Mag’sty and the gang, they just think I’m smart at gettin’ out of places. Don’t no one know.”

“Good girl.” Izumi gives her a light squeeze. “So you want a big horse like this, huh? Do you want to see how fast he can go?” 

Kinsley’s eyes light up, and she reaches out to touch Vale’s mane, fingers gentle in the thick strands. “ _Yeah_ ,” she says fervently.

“She’s going to be as bad as you,” Arashi says fondly.

“Thank the gods,” Izumi sighs, snugly tightening his arm about Kinsley’s waist. “You think I’m dashing, now you’ve got twice that to deal with,” he says with a bat of his eyelashes to Arashi, and spurs Vale forward with barely a nudge of his heel, setting off to the palace at full speed. 

“At least I’m going to be immune to this one!” Arashi calls, following after. He doesn’t push it, though, and lets Izumi and his daughter ride ahead, catching up once they’re leaving Vale with stablehands, handing Neigh off to another stableboy. “You want to take her for a wash before she meets her sister?”

“I’m clean!” Kinsley insists. “It’s just my hair that’s messy. An’ short. It grows real fast, I shave it but it’s gotta stay hid.”

“Who told you to hide your hair, Milady?”

Kinsley looks around, then blinks, as if realizing that she is the Milady to whom he’s speaking. “Mag’sty. Says I’m too easy to find. A, um, a not-remember thief is an old thief.”

“Well, now you’re not a thief, and you don’t have to hide your hair,” Izumi says, picking out another piece of dirt as he wrinkles his nose. “So we’re going to wash this mess out of it. You don’t see me hiding mine, do you? It’s too pretty, better to show it off.” 

“Because I’m gonna be a lady?” she asks skeptically. She looks down at her dress, then up at him accusingly. “The folks in the Palace...no one’s gonna believe I’m a Milady if I got a dress like this.”

“No, you show it off because you’re lovely and everyone should know it,” Izumi sniffs, and takes her hand again. “You’ll have plenty of pretty dresses soon,” he reassures her. “They’ll believe you just because of your hair now, though. Just like how the royal line in the Capital has all that orange hair—the Northern line’s silver now, I suppose…just come over here to the trough, this won’t take any time.” 

“It better be cold,” she mutters. “I hate hot baths. Patsa’s always put us in hot water baths and scrubbed til we were red.”

“Arashi, are you hearing this? You really are mine. In the North, all the baths are cold.” Izumi kneels down next to the trough, pulling her over. “The rest of you’s clean, just dunk your head and I’ll scrub it all out. Then we’ll see about getting you a pretty dress and a good meal, hmm?” 

Kinsley nods, then immediately submerges her head, blowing out through her nose as her short hair sloughs the mud off, easily coming free under Izumi’s hands scrubbing. When it’s all gone, she bursts out, eyes bulging like a fish, shaking her head out like a dog. “I been North of Capstwain Street, all the way up to the wall,” she says proudly.

“ _Really._ Well, I think you’d like the proper North more. The capital’s only good for cute boys and pretty girls. Even their horses are ugly.” Izumi towels her head off with his own cloak, ruffling her hair into a semblance of order once he’s done. It shines as brilliantly silver as his own, and he pats her cheek as he climbs to his feet. “Come on, then. Ah, I hope Mika hasn’t gotten annoyed, we’ve been gone for awhile.” 

“I have a feeling,” Arashi muses, watching the girl tag along after Izumi as if she’s been chosen to become Princess of the World, “that he isn’t going to be annoyed.”

When they open the doors to Mika’s chambers, Arashi sneezes at the sheer amount of flowers clustered around. Elia stands in the middle of Rei, Shu, and Mika, Shu’s hands moving swiftly on a needle and thread, piecing together what looks like a tiny cupcake gown with at least four layers of ruffles. Elia’s hands move too, in a clapping game with Mika as Rei sings the chant. “Sorry to interrupt,” Arashi calls. “But we brought the little princess a playmate.”

Mika looks up, beaming. “Hi, _kara_ ,” he cheerfully greets, finishing the last couple of claps without looking. “I’m stealin’ this one, sorry!” 

It’s one thing for Mika to love children, but entirely unexpected for both Shu _and_ Rei to both be in on this. Izumi blinks, startled. “Um—“ 

“Oh, good, you’ve found the other one,” Rei lightly says, offering Kinsley an easy smile. “We were starting to fight over Lady Elia here.” 

“Geez, that one looks even more like you,” Mika adds, tilting his head as he looks at Kinsley, and then he blinks hard, having to look away as his eyes water. “Ah, wow, ouch.” 

“What do you mean, ‘ouch’?” Izumi shortly demands, a hand on Kinsley’s shoulder. 

“Nothin’, nothin’, forget it, what’s her name?” 

“Kinsley,” Kinsley says, eyes wide as saucers, taking in the sights all around her. Then she sets her eyes on Elia, and beams. “Are you my little sister?”

Elia immediately scoots back against Mika for comfort. 

“It’s okay,” Kinsley assures her, rubbing a hand over her scrubby short hair. “We’ve got the same hair, right?”

Slowly, Elia nods.

“I think my heart grew six or seven sizes,” Arashi remarks, then kneels next to Mika, and whispers as low as possible, “Something wrong with her hourglass, _amaka_?”

“Izumi, make us one,” Shu commands, only partly joking. “Elia is delightful, this is our new princess.”

Mika waves a dismissive hand, and promptly kisses the side of Elia’s head, and her now own neatly combed, perfectly clean head of silver hair. “Big sisters take care of little ones,” he tells her. “And you’re both gonna be ladies now, so won’t that be fun? Mm, ’s nice to meet you, Kinsley. I’m Mika.” If he doesn’t look at her for _too_ long, his eyes only ache a little. 

“I didn’t realize you all had such baby fever,” Izumi sighs, collapsing down onto the floor in a weary heap next to Mika. 

“Wizards _are_ sterile,” Rei reminds him, leaning back in his chair. “And your children are adorable. It’s sort of a given. Shu and I decorated their room.” 

“Here, little one, try this on.” 

Under Shu’s hands, Elia suddenly transforms into a proper cupcake, wearing the dress in the very height of Capital fashion. She looks down at herself, then bursts into tears, burying her face in Shu’s knee.

“Overstimulated,” Shu says with a sigh, as Kinsley starts petting her little sister’s hair. “She’s had a very big day. Izumi, you’ve prepared rooms and servants for them, have you not? I’m joking, ha! Rei handled all of that while you were out.”

“Before you thank me, consider that I want to steal your children,” Rei blithely says, and leans over to absently tuck a few flowers into Elia’s hair. “There, there, love, you look lovely, don’t you? A real princess. Lady Kinsley, let Shu here take your measurements and he’ll make you a dress as well.” 

Obnoxiously, Izumi feels his own eyes prick with tears, and he looks away with a sniffle muffled into his hand. “Thank you,” he manages, trying not to burst into tears much like his own daughter. “I’m not…entirely certain I’d be able to do any of this without you all.”

“Crybaby,” Mika teases, pulling on Izumi’s ponytail. “Don’t worry about it, like Rei said, we all like kids and they’re sooo cute.” 

“You provided us with two princesses to spoil,” Shu adds, wiping away Elia’s last tears as she laughs, turning to take Kinsley’s measurements. “Ah, this is just like that book I used to read Mika when he was a child. What was the name of it, The Unlucky Little Lady?”

“That’s exactly how it is! Ahh, I can tell that story by heart. Once, in a land far, far away, there was a little girl, living without a single doll to her name~…” 

Rei leans over, tapping Izumi’s shoulder to make him glance up. “I’ve asked your mother to come here by the week’s end, before she heads for the North,” he says. “So you can decide how you’d like to deal with that. Of course, your children are welcome here, but I understand with the precariousness of the situation if you’d rather they not stay.”

“Thank you,” Izumi sniffs, wiping gingerly at his eyes. “Though I don’t particularly listening to my mother scold me again, thank you. Ahh, gods, I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, I haven’t the slightest clue what to even do from here…”

“I’d offer you the Kingsguard, but it seems as though Shu’s friend is still rather attached to it, and loyal enough,” Rei mildly says. “And I think he even still wants to fight you. I’m not sure what your prince said about you, but apparently, there was a lot of boasting involved.” 

“Excellent.” The reply is a sarcastic one. “I’ll keep that much in mind.” 

“What of the prince, then, Majesty?” Arashi asks lightly, pulling back to let Shu and Mika play with the little girls, Shu sewing, Mika telling his story. “Please don’t take this as a vote of disloyalty, but he remains my prince, you know. I’ve fought and killed for him for years, now, and I still support him.”

“I’ve sent out a number of hunters with no results so far,” Rei admits, tucking his hair back behind his ears. Next to his right foot, a sprout pops up through the floorboards, and he idly prods it back down with a bare toe. “Eichi has a great ability to remain hidden, as it were. Even my power has difficulty with such things at times, and he’ll use that to his advantage as long as he can. I have men aware of the possible situation at High Harbor, so if he decides to surface there with the prince, we’re prepared.” 

Izumi’s lips press into a thin line, and Rei spreads his hands open. “I have no issue handing this throne back to him. Consider me a placeholder—I know where my talents lie, and it’s not in governing a kingdom like this. The Academy, however, is my right. I’ll see it run by my hand or I’ll die, both Shu and I have come to this resolve. If he tries to bring Eichi back and insist upon his rule over the Academy…then we’ll be having words.” 

“Why are you so certain he’ll try to keep bringing the Emperor back?” Izumi quietly asks, his stare intent. “He’s fucked him, not married him. The Emperor’s got a lover, and you’ve got him in a tower. Use that.” 

Rei’s lips part, and his expression shifts wry. “Troubling, all of that.” 

“I don’t know exactly what rumors have been floating around,” Arashi says, with a frown both towards Izumi and Rei, “but from where I was standing, Leo absolutely only went with him because the alternative was the Emperor killing the rest of us. Like you said, he’s fucked him, not married him. And I’m no politician, but I’ve listened to the prince speak a lot. I guarantee, he wants to see what you’d do with the throne, Majesty. All he wants is what’s best for his people. Honestly, Izumi, it should be _you_ sticking up for him, not me.”

“I’ve been sticking up for him for years. I’m tired of saying the same thing over and over to people that keep acting like they know better than me. I’ve even had to say it to you, Arashi, and I’m sick of it. I’d rather just go chasing him down myself and bring him back here than have to defend him all over again.” 

Izumi climbs to his feet, dusting himself off. Rei watches him, head tilted. “Sit back down.” 

“No, thanks—“

“I want to believe in your prince, too, but when resonant bonds come into play, there’s not much say he’s got in it.” 

Izumi stops, his stare wary, and Rei’s eyebrows raise. “You can chase him down all you like, and he can want me here or in charge of the Academy or what have you all he wants, but bonded compulsions aren’t always kind. Ask Shu, if you don’t want to take my word for it. Maybe he went with the Emperor to protect all of you, but it could also be killing two birds with one stone. It’s very satisfying, to finally give into a very basic urge, and it eventually becomes very addictive.” 

“Bullshit,” Arashi whispers in growing horror. “Bullshit, people can’t see them over distances like that--not even the Emperor, he said me and Izumi are bonded, but we’re not. Leo--he _couldn’t_ \--there’s no way a guy like that would fall in love with a monster like _that_. You’ve met him. You know.”

“It’s not always a matter of love, Captain,” Rei says softly. “Bonds have little to do with that. Shu and I are extremely lucky, but others are far from it. Either way, all I know is that Eichi’s bond is not with Wataru as we all previously thought, and Natsume has informed me of how clearly he can see the resonance between Eichi and the prince. I have no reason to assume otherwise.” He pauses, brows furrowing. “Did he honestly say you two are bonded? He was trying to stir something up, wasn’t he, what a prick.”

Izumi feels himself grow colder and colder with every single word, until his hands tremble, and he has to fold his arms across his chest, fingers biting into his own arms to stop them from shaking. “This is bullshit,” he whispers, shaking his head. “There’s no way. He wouldn’t—“

“There’s no choice in it.” Rei’s voice is apologetic. “I’m sorry. I really, truly am.”

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck--sorry, I hope they didn’t hear that.” 

Arashi scrubs his hands over his face, leaving a couple of smudges at the corners of his eyes. “Right, silver lining. Natsume’s scared Eichi is going to kill Tsumugi, because Tsumugi knows how to kill him. But, well, now we fucking--sorry--now we _can’t_ kill him, because it would kill the prince, so he has no more reason to kill Tsumugi. Right?”

“Eichi’s history with Tsumugi…it runs beyond the fact that Tsumugi knows how to kill him. So, he might still do it, who knows? I don’t claim to know how Eichi thinks, he’s a complete lunatic. But otherwise, yes, you’re correct, we are, as you so eloquently put it,” Rei dryly says, shrugging, “fucked.” 

Izumi sucks in a breath as if he’s about to say something, then shuts his mouth instead, and turns on his heel, stalking from the room without another word. 

“That was bound to happen,” Rei exhales, shutting his eyes as he flops backwards. “This is so unfortunate. I really liked the prince, I want to make that clear.” 

“Then don’t put that in the past tense,” Arashi snaps. “And rule his kingdom well until he gets back.” He looks down at his hands, dismayed to see that they’ve clenched into fists. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to yell. I’m going to go hit a wall. Have fun with the kids.”

“Before you destroy something, take your time to remind Lord Izumi of what he had to do to bring you back to life after Eichi backhanded you once,” Rei sharply calls after him. “So that he doesn’t run off to do something careless! Sorry, sorry, ignore us, we’re just old men yelling,” he hums, turning back to the little sewing party going on. “Ahh, Shu, that dress is looking lovely, your talents are unmatched.” 

Arashi tears through the halls, easily catching up to Izumi with the speed of his long legs. “Hey,” he calls, trotting up to his side. “Oi. Bring me if you’re going to do something stupid,” he says, completely ignoring Rei’s advice. “Best chance of you walking away to give those little princesses a father.”

Izumi stops short, staring up at Arashi with red-rimmed eyes. “The hell am I going to do that will fix this?” he hoarsely asks, fighting back tears with every word. “I can’t even kill that asshole. I would’ve, too, I would’ve run out and cut off his smug goddamned head—gods, I was going to go and try to kill him before, if you hadn’t stopped me, Leo—fuck, he could’ve _died._ How was I supposed to know about this shit?”

“How’s anyone?” Arashi demands, pushing Izumi back against the wall to ground him, stopping him from taking off. “Maybe he doesn’t even know! So, what? What the hell are we going to do?”

“Natsume knew! He fucking knew, from the second he had that dream, and he didn’t tell me—“ Izumi’s chest heaves. His lower lip trembles. “Gods, I _teased him_ about how much he got off with that motherfucker last time—no wonder he was so into it, I’m gonna be sick.” 

“It’s not his fault,” Arashi whispers, though his own fists are clenching. “You heard the Demon King, you can’t control it--fuck, he probably had no control over what the Emperor was doing to him, no wonder he kept trying to think up ways to solve it.”

“I know it’s not his fault, I’m not blaming him, I just—“ 

His heart thuds too loud, and that sick feeling persists. Izumi swallows, shutting his eyes as he slumps back against the wall. “I don’t know what to do. If this is all true—“ He has to say it like that, because he still can’t believe it, not _really_ , even if all the facts point to it being as Rei says. “Then…fuck. What can I even do? Even if I rode out right now and snatched him away, wouldn’t the Emperor follow him? Wouldn’t he know where to find him? And what if…what if that just hurt him more? I saw how Shu was every damned day that he was away from Rei, I…I can’t think about this right now.” 

“Let’s get drunk. Or play with babies, I know a guy with two cute little daughters that need to learn bad habits,” Arashi suggests, grabbing Izumi by the collar and yanking him close, as if he can squeeze the shock, horror, and deep sorrow out of Izumi. “Come on, you can’t think about this, there’s nothing you can do, whether it’s true or not.”

Izumi lurches forward, grabbing tightly to Arashi, stuffing his face into his neck. “He already thinks that I’m taken by someone else, so he probably doesn’t see any reason to run away,” he whispers. “This fucking sucks. Kiss me so I shut up, make me stop thinking about it, I’ll start crying around my kids again and that’s too pathetic.” 

Arashi grabs Izumi’s face, taking him in a brutal kiss, plundering his mouth, backing him up against the wall. He doesn’t stop for breath, doesn’t let up even when he’s sure Izumi can’t breathe, when anyone normal would try to pull away. “This what you need?” he grunts, hands wandering down to his hips, yanking him up, pressing him hard against the stone wall. “You want me? I won’t let you think about anything else, darling, I promise you that.”

Izumi’s nails gratefully bite into Arashi’s back, clinging to him, gripping tightly. He arches up even when he can’t breathe, straining against the vice-tight grip on his hips, and he breathes the same air Arashi does, sucking in a ragged inhale against his mouth. “Don’t talk, just fuck me,” he begs. “Not here, though, fuck the capital.” 

“Yeah, I don’t want to die,” Arashi breathes, pulling back only far enough to toss Izumi over his shoulder. “Don’t tell everyone in the West that I’m strong enough to do this kind of thing, yeah? I wanna keep my cute mystique going on back there.” He sets the pace for Izumi’s rooms, going in the direction he’s pretty sure is the right one. “Ugh, the Palace is so _big_ , what’s the point of all these?”

“So it’s impossible to find anyone important,” Izumi grunts, dangling over Arashi’s shoulder, very content to be manhandled. Maybe that makes him a less than responsible parent right now, but fuck it, he has three very willing babysitters that want to steal his kids, anyway. “Turn left, third down down, that’s me.” 

Arashi nearly skips down the hallway, opening the latch on the door, then shutting it behind him, tossing his captive onto the bed. He doesn’t exactly feel in the mood for love, but Izumi obviously needs him desperately, and fuck it, he’s a good friend. “Take off your clothes and tell me what you want.”

Izumi sucks in a slow breath. Instead of doing that, he rolls over onto his back, grabbing for Arashi, pulling him down. “Just come here,” he whispers, burying his face into Arashi’s neck. “Sorry. Just kiss me or something, I want you to fuck me but only if you really want to take your frustration out on someone, that kind of thing.” 

Arashi kneels over Izumi, kissing him deeply, stroking his hair. “You’re all right,” he whispers. “I’m here. Close your eyes, tell me what you want, I’ll take care of you. Sorry I’m so slow to rise.”

A shuddering exhale escapes from Izumi’s lips, and he lifts his hands, dragging them back through Arashi’s hair. “You,” he quietly says, shutting his eyes. “Just…you. You’re good and you feel good and you don’t make my head hurt and I’m _really_ sick of everything else, but not you.” 

Arashi’s eyes sting, and he blinks, a little taken aback. “Stop it,” he mutters, looking away as he blinks more, cheeks flushing. “You’re making me mad that we didn’t all run away after all.”

“Yeah, same, but I’m glad I came back for those kids.” Izumi lurches up, kissing him again, drawing it out with a long, lingering suck on Arashi’s tongue. “Sorry I’m like this,” he murmurs. “Makes it easier for me to think, I don’t know why—take your shirt off so I can touch you, you’re warm.” 

Without showing any of the reluctance he feels, Arashi pulls back, stripping off his shirt. “They’re worth it, huh? Elia’s cute, Kinsley seems as bad as you.”

“I’d feel like shit if I had run off and left them here.” Izumi’s eyes lid and he drags his hands down Arashi’s back, feeling the flex of muscles underneath his touch. “Maybe I should just go back North,” he mutters. “What’s left for me here? If he’s really…gods, I can’t even say it still.” 

Arashi pulls back, frowning. “You’d still love him, though, right? You’d still be his friend? I mean, I guess it’s none of my business. I just hope I can pry Mika away from Shu, heh.”

“I don’t expect you to come with me.”

There’s a lump in Izumi’s throat, and he drops his hands, turning his head to the side. “You’re a lord in your own right, you don’t have to follow me anywhere. It’s…not like you’re my lover or anything, just my best friend. You’re Mika’s, not mine.” The words catch up in his throat, and the onslaught of tears that he’d been trying to keep back prick into his eyes again. “I d-don’t even know how I could possibly even _talk_ to him without wanting to rip off the Emperor’s head,” he whispers. “Which would fucking kill him, so—no, I don’t think I could be his fucking _friend_.” 

Arashi stares at Izumi for a moment, hearing nothing but the thud of his heart. Then, he picks Izumi up by the throat, and calmly slams him down to the bed as if he were no more than a rag doll. He stands, eyes blazing as he towers over him. “After the time we’ve spent together,” he says, voice quavering. “After the--the _hundreds_ of times I’ve been inside you. And you’ve held me. And I’ve held you. And I’ve told you I love you, and you’ve saved my life, and--you’re saying you’ve got no _claim_ on me? That I’m not your _lover_? Fuck you, fine, go on, break my heart and Mika’s too.”

Izumi hisses out a breath, recoiling into a ball. His head swims, but he forces himself up onto an elbow, vision blurring. “Fuck you, that’s not what I meant—Arashi, listen to me, don’t just be mad!” 

He lurches forward off the bed, grabbing for Arashi’s arm. “I love you,” he blurts out, his fingers trembling. “But…seriously, I didn’t think…I thought…I thought it was you and Mika, and I was just…I don’t know, something extra? That when push came to shove, you two would leave me behind. And I accepted that.” He bites his lip, glancing down. “It didn’t feel right to call you my lover, or to say I’ve…got a claim on you, not after how long you fought to be with _him_ , not me. That’s all I meant. I didn’t want to fuck up anything—because gods, you two have something good, you know? And I’m pretty good at fucking everything up.” 

A deep breath in, a deep breath out. Arashi slowly breathes again, and nods, reaching out to muss Izumi’s hair. “Okay. I understand. I get it. But--you’re wrong. I know where you’re coming from but...gods, you idiot, I love you as much as I love him, even if I’ve known him for a decade longer. And he loves you, too, and...I mean, when you had another lover, that’s one thing, but we’d be fucking happy to have you as...whatever.” He laughs, a little bitterly. “It’s not like anyone would ever recognize us together anyway. What’s wrong with making it a little weirder?”

_When you had another lover._ The words make Izumi feel cold, and weak, and he releases Arashi’s arm as his fingers go slack. “We’ve already got a man on the throne that’s wizard-married to another man,” he says with a wet laugh, “so who even fucking knows what’s going to happen anymore. Gods, I love you so fucking much, I wish I had met you before him, I wish I had just kept my hands off of him for a few more months, then I would’ve gotten kicked into your army and everything would be _fine_ because he never would’ve been with me, he’d be fine and I wouldn’t be going so goddamn crazy!” 

“ _Fuck_ him,” Arashi says, suddenly urgent. “Stop it--don’t let--I know it’s not his fault, but darling, loving someone who’s got a resonant bond, that’s not going anywhere, and there’s _nothing_ you can do about it, there’s nothing anyone can do about it. So--it’s bad, it sucks, but _fuck_ that, you’re ours now. And we’ll--dammit, I’m crying--we’ll raise those pretty little girls, and we’ll make sure there’s always love around, and I won’t marry for a sham, yeah? One of them can have your dominance, one can have mine, and they’ll both be _protected_.”

Izumi stares back up at him, his eyes wet, and he sinks back onto the bed. Finally, he just nods, lifting a hand to rub it across the back of his eyes. “All right,” he whispers. “All right. That…that sounds…doable.” Reasonable, even, unlike everything else that’s been tossed in front of him recently. “You don’t have to go back to the West. You can stay in the North, no one gives a fuck if you kiss Mika or me in public and no one’s going to care if you walk with your goddamn hips.” He sniffs. “I like your hips.” 

Arashi laughs, the sound wet and a bit ragged, and he wipes his eyes. “I’m mad at you for making me cry. Ugh, it’s not like I care if they even take the West away from me, I don’t even like it and I’ve only lived at my ‘house’ for about a month. I _love_ the Army, though.”

“I’m always crying, what’s the big deal anymore?” Izumi mumbles, reaching out for him again. “They won’t take the West from you, I won’t let them. I’m important, even if I’m basically the prince of the middle of nowhere. The West and the North can have one enormous army and no one will ever fuck with us ever again.” 

“That...sounds pretty good,” Arashi admits. “If we expand the area around the Shadowlands, we’re basically connected already. Hell, between your prestige and my money, and all that land? We’ll own half the country.”

“I also have the only trading agreement with the Shadowlands that anyone’s had in…somewhere between hundreds and thousands of years,” Izumi says, shrugging his shoulders. “Because I saved Ritsu’s boyfriend. Surprise. We can build our own empire if we wanted.” 

“Cool, let’s keep that in mind in case the Demon King is a bad king, eh?” Arashi tugs Izumi into his lap, then tucks that long silver hair behind his ears. “I’m bad at emotional stuff when it has to do with me, all right?” he asks softly, and places a gentle kiss on Izumi’s lips. “But I love you. And so does Mika.”

“He’s already better than the last one because he’s admitted he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing,” Izumi says with a tired laugh, looping his arms around Arashi’s neck and lurching up to kiss him again. “I love you so fucking much,” he mutters. “And if you two leave me, I’ll find a way to kill all of us.” 

“Mm, sounds good. Just start with me, all right?” Arashi asks, tapping the tip of Izumi’s nose.

“Yeah. Then Mika will help the process along.” Izumi buries his face into Arashi’s neck. “Now cuddle me.” 

“Yes, Milord.”


	49. Chapter 49

Something is wrong.

Shu always rises early, but this day he rises even before sunrise, a strange itch under his skin. It’s oppressive, as if the day is hot and muggy, making him sweat even if he can feel the chill wind whistling past the window.

The bed next to him is empty, but that’s not unusual. Sometimes Rei can’t sleep until long after dawn. But the same instinct that awakened him urges him to get up, telling him that this isn’t just late-night prowling.

He finds Rei standing on the second floor above the Eastern courtyard, watching Arashi and Izumi spar in the courtyard. The strange feeling swirls in the air, and Shu looks across the courtyard, seeing the silent form of Natsume in his too-large Nightcloak, also watching. Without knowing why, he looks up, and sees the outline of a figure in Wataru’s tower, also looking down at the sparring pair. “All we’re missing is Kanata,” he murmurs, sidling up to Rei. “What’s wrong? What’s--it’s Izumi, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Rei’s elbows are set upon the railing, his mouth set in a deep frown. He doesn’t look at Shu, and if anything, he pointedly doesn’t. “I just received a message from High Harbor.” 

“Ah. So that’s where he is.” He can feel it now, the rippling disturbance in the magical fabric that threads through the world. It always ripples around Eichi, like a rock pressed against a spiderweb, binding all threads to him. “I could feel he was doing something. What’s happened?”

“Every single person under my employ there has been taken captive.”

Rei’s long fingers drum against the railing, his nails clicking lightly against it. “With an odd predicament that Eichi is tormenting me with right now. Well, not for long, I’ve already made up my mind, but I’m not happy about having to do this. I’d like for you to know that.” 

His fingers still, and before his own gaze—and Shu’s, to a lesser degree, through their bond—lines and webs of magic filter into view. Some of the more complicated interwoven structures of shields and related construct are easily ignored for the more interesting lines—the thick, heavy cord between himself and Shu, for example—and with others, the tenuous, thinner cord from Izumi, stretching far, far away into the distance. It looks like fishing line, what with how stretched thin it is. 

Rei draws in a breath, curls a finger, and draws that cord to himself, and snaps it. 

Below, Izumi drops as if he’s been hit to the head, and Rei drops his hand, heaving a sigh as he closes his eyes. “Eichi threatened to kill the boy he was bonded to—or to reach through him, and…gods know what. This is kinder.” 

Shu stares in growing horror at his bonded. The idea of that bond being _snapped_ \--of having such a central, essential part of his soul ripped out--of having someone _touch_ it, let alone _destroy_ it--

It makes him sick.

“My lord...did what he felt was best,” he whispers, unable to look Rei in the eyes. Then he leaps off of the balcony over the railing, landing lightly on his feet, kneeling over Izumi.

Arashi drops as well, eyes wild, shaking Izumi hard. “Izumi? Izumi! Answer me!”

Izumi’s head lolls, a low, agonized whimper leaving him even before he wakes. When he does, his eyes flutter open slowly, unfocused, unseeing, but that lasts for maybe a second before he bolts up, no matter how his head throbs, how his world spins, trying to get unsteady legs underneath himself. “Where…where is he?” 

“Who?” Arashi demands, climbing to his feet, frowning in concern. “I didn’t even hit you, why’d you fall?”

“I…I don’t know.” Izumi’s knees buckle again as he blinks hard, his eyes tearing up when there doesn’t seem a reason for it. Distracted, he’s so _distracted_ , why can’t he think about anything but—“Yuukun—where is he?” 

“Who?”

“ _Him?_ ” Shu’s voice is startled, and he looks up at Rei on the balcony. “The blond with the spectacles?”

“He’s in High Harbor, darling, remember? He’s safe.”

On the balcony, Rei lingers for only a moment longer before he turns away, pulling thecurtains shut behind him. 

“No—no, something’s wrong, I can tell something’s wrong!” Izumi’s voice breaks, uncharacteristically shrill, and his attention whips to Shu, anxiety written across his face as he grabs at his robes. “There has to be a way to reach him—wizards can do that, right? Or I’ll ride out there myself, I—“ 

“ _Kara_ , what’s going on?” 

All the shouting is more than enough to make Mika nervous, but he slinks outside all the same after stashing both of Izumi’s children with a servant, staying a few paces back. “Izumin, what… _kara_ , did you hit him weird or somethin’?” 

“I didn’t hit him at all,” Arashi says, on the verge of hysterical himself. This is wrong, this is _awful_ , this is why he tries as hard as he can not to care about people.

“That’s not one of my skills, I can only speak over distances to my bonded,” Shu explains, laying his hands over Izumi’s, chewing his bottom lip. He has an idea--it’s awful, it’s a lie, and it’ll certainly come out eventually, but-- “If this is about your friend Makoto, Rei told me--the Emperor has taken everyone in High Harbor captive. If that boy was truly your bonded...it’s possible the Emperor has done something to affect you.”

The tears welling up in Izumi’s eyes spill immediately, and he shakes his head, trying to claw his way back up to his feet again. “No, _no_ , that’s—I’m not bonded to him, I’d know that, I’d know!” And in the same breath—“Why wouldn’t Rei tell all of us that? W-what are we doing here just waiting around, we have to do something, what if he’s hurt, what if—“

“Fuck me,” Mika mutters, which dissolves into another few choice, grumbling curses in desert tongue as he turns away, frustration written as clear as day across his face.

“Izumi,” Shu says sharply, grabbing his sleeve. “This _just happened_. That’s why all of us are here, we all felt something. If you want to know--Wataru can see over long distances, ask him.”

Izumi’s chest heaves, and he stares back at Shu for a moment longer before he bolts, heading directly towards Wataru’s tower. 

“Wait! I wanted Natsu to…check,” Mika weakly says, dropping his hand when Izumi clearly isn’t interested in hearing him, and a door slams in his wake. He huffs, fiddling with his sleeves. “He’s never _once_ acted like he was bonded to that kid,” he whispers. “That can’t be right, it has to be somethin’ else. Master, did Rei say anythin’ else? The Emperor, he hasn’t…killed anyone, has he?”

“I don’t know,” Shu admits. “I don’t know much. It’s...I don’t know, it doesn’t sound right that they were bonded without either of them knowing--”

“That’s not right,” Arashi says suddenly. “Remember, Mika? He used to say that he heard Makoto’s voice, and he was always thinking about him whenever we...”

“He wasn’t _always_ thinkin’ about him, it was jus’ one time!” Mika’s voice breaks, and half a dozen patches of flowers about the courtyard go up into stark violet flame. “This isn’t fair—he’s mine, I didn’t have to share anymore, this isn’t _fair!”_

“Shh, _amaka_ , shh, it’s fine,” Arashi says, moving to grab Mika in a hug, but Shu pushes him to the side, wrapping his arms around Mika.

“Stop it,” he orders, his own violet fire settling on top of Mika’s, suffocating his smaller flames. “If you’re going to act like a child, I’ll treat you like I used to when you were a child. Suffering is not a guarantee that you deserve _anything_ later. You take what you want, and you suffer when things are bad. Haven’t I taught you that?”

“Things aren’t supposed to be bad anymore!” Mika jerks back, his hands against Shu’s chest to keep distance between them as he glares up at him with a tear-streaked face. “Rei promised! I’m sick of sufferin’, it ain’t fair and it ain’t right, especially with somethin’ like this! I-Izumi’s been tryin’ hard and every time he starts feelin’ better, shit like this happens, and that’s bullshit!” 

He whirls away, cloak whipping out behind him. “Natsu! Natsu, don’t fuckin’ dive back into your room, I can see you, I’m comin’ up there if you run!” 

Natsume warily lingers on his balcony, hesitation in his gaze. “I’m not sure what you want me to—“

“Does he have a bond?” Mika snaps, staring up at him. “You can tell, don’t give me that shit about it not bein’ foolproof!”

Natsume falters. The curl of Rei’s fingers remains vivid in his mind, the sharp _snap_ of a strand binding two people together _splitting_ echoing through him—but he looks at Shu, and his mouth goes dry. “He…doesn’t,” he manages to say. It’s not a lie. Not really. “He doesn’t have one, I can’t see one.” 

Frustration makes Mika’s face twist, and unable to shake the feeling that something’s _wrong_ , he turns back to Arashi, stricken. “ _Kara_ , let’s go check on him—I…I can’t go to the Faerie’s tower by myself, but if you come with me…” 

Arashi takes Mika’s hand, and nods firmly, setting off for the tower at a dead run. 

Once they’re gone, Shu looks up at Natsume, his stomach heavy and tense. “We should just tell him that Eichi broke the bond,” he whispers. “He’s done enough terrible things.”

Natsume bites at his lip, glancing aside. “That’s probably the best idea,” he softly says, gripping the railing of the balcony. “I don’t mean to question Lord Rei—I’m sure he knows better in this situation, but it still just seems…” 

“I never would have done it,” Shu says quietly. “But I don’t have the responsibility of the entire country on my shoulders. He felt himself...justified. I don’t know what else to say about it.”

In the tower, Wataru stands at the bottom of the stairs, eyes gleaming in the darkness. “Yes?” he asks, looking both of them up and down. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Amazing, that I can still be surprised!”

_We’ve met, you’ve tormented me and you’ve chased us down on multiple occasions, you stupid birdbrain_ , Mika bitterly thinks, but he clings to Arashi’s arm, grateful, for now, that he hasn’t been recognized. “Did Lord Izumi come here to speak to you?” he asks, barely able to force the words from his tongue. “About High Harbor.” 

“He’s upstairs, of course. I’m weaving him a spell!” Wataru declares, and starts ascending the stairs, moving as smoothly as if he still had those gossamer wings. “A far-seeing spell, one he desires, so that he may see with his own eyes. And what can I do for you, little crow? Oh! Ah, you’re Shu’s crow, aren’t you? And...” He looks at Arashi, spinning a finger in the air. “And his...?”

“His lady that doesn’t have time for this right now,” Arashi says shortly, heading up the stairs after him. “Izumi!”

Mika hisses rather like a cat through his gritted teeth. “Don’t _call_ me that,” he growls, sprinting ahead up the stairs after Arashi and darting underneath Wataru’s arm to get away from him and into the tower _sooner._ “Izumin!” 

Izumi, for his part, is curled up on one of the overstuffed chairs in the room, knees drawn to his chest, his stare listless. The sound of Mika and Arashi’s voices, however, make his head jerk up, but he barely sways underneath Mika suddenly tackling and latching onto him. “Mika—“

“You _gotta_ snap out of it, Eichi’s just gotta be fuckin’ with you,” Mika insists, shaking him again. “Natsu says you don’t have a bond, so it can’t be that!” 

A sort of troubled, hesitant relief passes over Izumi’s face. “Then…what’s going on with me?” he whispers, grabbing at Mika’s hands. “I haven’t thought about Yuukun for days, but all of a sudden, he just won’t get out of my head and I can’t _think_ about anything else, I feel like I’m going mad.” 

“Ah...it seems your friends don’t want you to know.” Wataru smiles, resting back against the wall, no matter that it digs into the deep gashes on his back that won’t seem to heal. “And I suppose you won’t take information from someone like me, who has found himself on your opposition’s side from time to time?”

“You know something.” Arashi stares at the strange man, barely resisting the urge to strangle him. “Tell us.”

“So fearsome! No worries, my dears, I’m entirely captive and at your service, should you require it.” 

Wataru sweeps close, extending a finger, dragging it down Izumi’s chest. “There is no bond,” he says quietly, “but oh, there is certainly the scar from one that’s been broken.”

“Don’t touch him,” Mika snarls, teeth bared as he huddles back against Izumi’s chest, no matter how he trembles over being so thoroughly in Wataru’s territory. “Whaddya mean, _broken?_ Did Eichi do that? I’ll kill ‘im myself!” 

“I’m just stunned you lived through it,” Wataru admits, pulling back with a sigh, retreating to his windowsill. “Well, little snake? Did you have something to ask me? Otherwise, take your fearsome protectors and leave me alone.”

Mika remains firmly fastened to Izumi’s arm, making moving difficult, but not impossible. “I need to know if he’s safe,” Izumi hears himself say before he can fully process it, still not sure what to believe—no bond, a broken bond, _how_ , since _when_ —but the compulsion is still there, and he can’t squash it, no matter how he inwardly begs his mind to _shut up, shut up._ “Makoto. Please, if you can see him, just—tell me if he’s alive, tell me that the Emperor hasn’t done anything to him.” 

“Amazing, that you think I can find someone from a simple given name,” Wataru says, voice weary. “This is a magical seeing, give me a way to find him. Location, distinctive features--ah, forget it, I’ll just watch Eichi.” _As usual._

He closes his eyes, traveling behind his eyelids. “He has captives. And he’s traveling. Coming here, I expect. There’s my predecessor, hello, he looks rather the worse for wear, and a blond Dawncloak, is that the one?”

“Yes, that’s him,” Izumi insistently presses, stepping closer, dragging Mika with him. “Is he all right? If he isn’t, I’ll—“ 

“Is the prince with them, too?” If _anything_ can make Izumi snap out of this, that should do it. At least, Mika hopes so. 

“Is the prince the orange one?”

“Yes, he’s the orange one,” Arashi says with a sigh.

Wataru shrugs. “Humans are harder to see. He’s easy, though. I haven’t seen such a strong bond since Shu and Rei. How unfortunate.” He reaches up, wiping a tear from his cold cheek. “Your blond seems unconscious. Asleep? Difficult to tell. They’re in some sort of...cart? Carriage? Something like a moving room, it’s difficult to keep watching something that moves.”

It’s not the news Mika wants, not at all, and judging by the way Izumi’s face falls, it’s not what he wants, either. “At least he sounds like he’s…okay,” Izumi whispers, hit by the sudden, numb realization that not only is Makoto seemingly out of reach, but Leo is even further away than ever before. “Thank you. You don’t have to keep watching.” 

“Then let’s go,” Mika desperately pleads, pulling on Izumi’s arm. “ _Kara_ , pick him up and help me.” 

Arashi does as he’s told, lifting Izumi princess-style. “Come on, then, love, you’ve got to pull yourself together. Think of the children, hmm? Ah...Mika, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he says conversationally as he walks down the stairs, because what the hell _else_ is he supposed to do? “Is there something in your tongue we can call him? I don’t want him to feel left out.”

Now, Izumi is too-quiet, having apparently exhausted himself in his fit from before, and he turns his head into Arashi’s chest, flopping there listlessly. Mika isn’t sure if he prefers that more or not, and instead, forces himself not to think about it too much, clinging to Arashi’s sleeve as he follows him down the stairs. “I dunno, everything’s kinda two-part-y, y’know?” he says with a weak laugh. “Maybe we should jus’ call him ‘snake’ or somethin’, that’s kinda cute…I’ll think about it, there’s gotta be somethin’.” 

He worries at his lower lip, giving Arashi’s sleeve a gentle tug after another moment’s thought. “We should just…go. The longer we stay here, the more bad things seem to keep happenin’. I…don’t know what happened here, but it doesn’t feel right. If the Emperor broke his bond, that’s…I don’t know how that’s going to keep affectin’ him, but it can’t be good for him to be here if they’re headin’ this way.” 

“Why can’t I have him?”

Arashi’s voice is a shaky whisper, with a hint of real anger creeping into it. “I don’t understand. We would be so _good_ to him. I love him--but every time things start going well, something tortures him! Why? What’s--why does this keep happening? The prince, the kidnapping, the...whatever this is! I’d take him and leave now, but I bet he won’t leave that boy behind! Will you?” he demands, eyes wild, setting Izumi down on his feet to stare at him searchingly.

Izumi wobbles, not expecting to be set down so suddenly, and he stares back at Arashi, not entirely processing the question. “…I want to go with you,” he slowly answers, “but I—“

“No, stop, _stop!_ ” Mika protests, lurching forward to shove his hands over Izumi’s mouth. “Just stop it! Gods, _kara_ , jus’ take him and go, stop lettin’ him think about it, that’s the problem, he thinks himself into a damn corner and then nothin’ happens!” He draws back, tears in his eyes, his hands shaking. “I’m gonna start packin’, I don’t wanna stay here anymore, even Master’s bein’ weird!” 

Izumi’s head starts to clear as Mika storms off, and he shuts his eyes, trying to shake off the residual fog that just won’t lift. “Sorry,” he eventually says. The stress, the worry, it all settles down into a dull roar, and he swallows hard, as if that’ll help keep it that way. “I really don’t know what happened. If the Emperor did something, I don’t…even really want to know. Mika’s right, we should plan to leave.” _Before I start feeling like that again._

“I’m not all about forcing you to do anything that I have to force you to do,” Arashi says with a sigh. “I don’t really know what I’m doing, you know. It might even be better to leave this whole place, let Rei and the Emperor fight it out between themselves and just survive whoever’s on the throne.”

“I’m not being forced, I’m not,” Izumi groans, wiping his hands down his face. His hands still tremble, and he can’t make it stop. “I feel sick—‘one of the strongest bonds since Rei and Shu’s’, I can’t believe that. I hate wizards. Not Mika, he’s different.” 

“He’s too smart to bond to a dumb human,” Arashi says softly, eyes clouded. “Keeps him from making stupid decisions, I guess.”

“It’s not something they can control.” Because if he doesn’t keep repeating that mantra, it’s never going to stop being terrible. “It’s not something they can control. And…and gods, maybe it’s better, then no one can kill you, and hurt him,” Izumi says with a laugh that’s not _entirely_ sane. “Arashi, cuddle me, I’m fucking freezing.” 

Arashi throws an arm around Izumi’s shoulders, squeezing him and steering him towards his quarters. “You really want to pack?” he asks softly. “Could you do it? Leave him behind for real, head North with the two of us?”

Izumi shakes his head, though it’s less a negative, more of a _I don’t know._ “I need to meet with my mother,” he says. “And pass the girls onto her—they can’t stay here, not if the Emperor is headed this way. Maybe Natsume is happy, at least. Tsumugi isn’t dead in High Harbor, that’s different.” 

“I hope she likes me,” Arashi admits. “What kind of person does she think you’d marry? I’m good at parents if I know what they like.”

“She’s currently trying to get me to marry a tall, ugly, and hairy Northern man that has all the wit of a rock.” This feels better. This feels natural. Right, he’s fine, he doesn’t _have_ to think about what is happening to Makoto at any given moment. That was just…something strange, something entirely abnormal, not a reoccurring thing. “But she knows I like pretty men and mostly just likes to mess with me by telling me ugly men are better lovers. Wrong, by the way. Just be yourself, she’s met you as my captain already.” 

“At least I’m strong and tall-ish,” Arashi says with a shrug. “What would she say about Mika? Or...are you not going to tell her about him?”

“Why wouldn’t I tell her about him?” Izumi grouses, rubbing a hand across the back of his eyes. “Look, I know you’re used to your shitty hometown, where you’ve got to hide everything fun and good about yourself, but I’ve always been taught that at home, that’s where you get to be a fool and admit all the things you’re doing and not be judged for it for once. I might not be home, but my mother’s as good as I’m going to get for the moment. If I’ve got two men on my arm, she’ll probably roll her eyes and ask me why at least _one of them_ couldn’t be a woman when Mika already looks like one, she wants grandchildren, but whatever, she’s already got two.”

Arashi exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Well, then let’s mini-run-away. Let’s grab Mika and go talk to your mother. Ah, this is good, at least between the three of us, we’ve got _one_ parent we can talk to.”

“That sounds good.” Izumi cracks a wry smile, and knocks his head lightly against Arashi’s shoulder. “Sorry I’m a fucking nutcase. You know, I don’t think the problem is wizards—just Nightcloaks. They all conspire with one another, this is why Mika is superior.” 

“Don’t talk shit about my master,” Mika softly says, lingering just inside the doors of the courtyard, Elia in his arms, Kinsley firmly attached to one hand. “But I mean, you’re right. They’re always like that. Are we goin’? You look like you’re feelin’ better…”

“We’re going to see my mother,” Izumi says. “Then we’ll talk about when we’re going to leave. Her opinion matters in this. I’d like to know what she thinks of the Demon King.” 

“I wanna meet our mother-in-law, don’t you? Ah!” Arashi kneels, patting the girls on the head. “Don’t you two want to meet your...Izumi, what do they call grandmothers in the North? In the west we said Granny. What about the Sandlands?”

“Just Grandma, I think.” 

“ _Bibi_ , in the South,” Mika offers up, still a bit skeptical on this plan of action, but not wanting to protest all the same. “Ehh…don’t Northerners not like people from the Sandlands? Maybe you two should jus’ go meet her…” 

“No, we just don’t like the South, there’s a difference.”

Mika looks over to Arashi, eyebrows raised. “ _Is_ there a difference?” 

“Of course, _amaka_. No one could not like you.” Arashi lays a hand on Mika’s back, steering him firmly towards the exits of the Palace.

Kinsley tugs on Izumi’s sleeve. “Mika said I can call you Papa. That true?”

“Of course, and I wish you would.” Izumi picks her up, brushing a strand of her already-growing hair out of her face. “And we’re about to go meet your grandmother. She doesn’t have hair like us, but she still knows what it means.” 

She laughs, and snuggles against his side. “I was gonna ask you to pick me up. Can I be tall on your shoulders?”

“What do they call grandmothers in the Capital?” Arashi asks her, smiling to himself as they walk. 

“Nana. Is my one...a real lady?”

“A real Northern lady,” Izumi confirms, hoisting Kinsley up onto his shoulders. “Which means she’s a lot tougher than these ladies in the Capital. Northern ladies train their own horses, did you know that?” 

“How? A horse is bigger than a lady. How big is she?”

“Smaller than me, but that doesn’t matter. It’s all about respect. My horse is bigger than every man in the capital just about, but he still respects me.” 

The fastest way to the walls around the Capital involves horses, but that requires effort, and drawing a lot more attention to them. Instead, opting for a carriage ride is smarter, _safer_ , especially with children, and they reach the lingering vestiges of the Northern encampment within a relatively short period of time. The further away from the palace they are, the better Izumi feels. Maybe there’s something to be said about _leaving_ , sooner, rather than later. 

“Lord Izumi!” Immediately upon sighting him, the guards posted about the encampment kneel. The last time they were in the North, it had been so brief, and he’d spent all of his time in Arashi’s army, more or less—Arashi getting to see him receive _this_ sort of treatment is, ah, different. 

“Rise already, rise—is my mother about?” 

The guards rise, and one points back towards the main tent. “Resting, Milord, but she said if you arrived for you to go to her immediately.” 

“ _Honestly_ , I’m sure the Demon King would’ve let her stay in a proper house, why is she like this,” Izumi grouses, but nevertheless, he steps forward, picking Kinsley up again so that she doesn’t dirty her shoes in the mud of the encampment. 

“Your Papa and Grandma are silly,” Mika tells Elia underneath his breath, adjusting her in his own arms, and he looks sideways to Arashi, vaguely amused. “Are we like, marryin’ a prince in our own right? No one in the Capital treats ‘im like that.” 

“These people have never been to the Capital,” Arashi says, equally quiet, a bemused little smile on his face. “The only authority they’ve ever known is the Sena house. Look how much they love her--they came all the way down here because she said he was in danger, and they’ve been here for months.”

Two guards at the entrance to Maya’s tent salute when they see Izumi, then drop to their knees. “Lord Izumi. It’s good to see you well. Is there anything we can bring you?”

“That’s enough.”

Maya pushes back the flap of her tent, beaming at the sight of her son, the smile fading into something startled, but no less delighted when she sees the little girl in Izumi’s arms. “Is this--what’s your name, little one?”

“Papa, you gotta put me down,” Kinsley whispers. “I can’t curtsy to a fancy lady if you got me held up.”

“You don’t need to curtsy to her, she’s your grandmother,” Izumi whispers back, but he gently places Kinsley down all the same, and tries not to look as nervous as he feels. “Hi, Mama. This is Kinsley.” He turns, gesturing back to the other little girl in Mika’s arms. “And that’s Elia. I, ah. Thought you’d like to meet them.” 

She nods, still a little shocked, and gestures Kinsley forward, crouching down to look into her face. “Hello, Kinsley. I’m your grandmother. You can call me Grandma if you like.”

Kinsley picks up the hem of the skirt Shu had sewed for her, and bobs a wobbly curtsy. “Pleased to meet you, Milady...Grandma.” She looks up at Izumi, as if to check that she’d done the right thing.

Arashi sets Elia on the ground next to her sister, and Kinsley starts moving, showing her how to pick up the hem of her skirts. “You gotta do this to pretty ladies and fancy men,” she whispers. “It’s important.”

“But you two are pretty ladies. Proper little princesses in your own right, I’d say.” Maya clasps her hands, beaming as she looks up at Izumi. “Thank you for bringing them here. Should I fetch a wetnurse, or are they weaned? And--oh, these are...hold on, I remember, Captain Arashi and His Excellency Mika, isn’t that right? Ah, would you like to use the warming stone? It’s authentic, though not authentically heated.”

“Mama, they don’t keep nursing kids forever in the Capital,” Izumi sighs, setting a hand on each girl’s head. “Honestly. Here, Mika, I’ll show you the warming stone,” he says, striding into the tent, bringing his girls with him. “And you can show the girls about it, too.” 

Mika hesitates, clinging to the bottom of Arashi’s sleeve before he ducks his head and follows nervously. “Seriously? Y’brought one all the way from the North?” 

“Obviously.” Izumi pulls the blankets back, pushes Mika down, and sets a little girl to each side of him before he turns back to his mother. “I’ve been needing to talk to you, but obviously I…had some things to take care of first.” 

Maya looks between the three adults and two children, then says cheerfully, “Why don’t we take a walk around the camp, while your friends and the little ones get warm? We’ll need to prepare, ah, the Annunciation, the Dousing, _and_ the Naming all at once for two children. Ah, where are we going to find a cedar tub under a waterfall down here? I suppose it _could_ wait until we all go North, but it’s such bad luck...”

Izumi hesitates, not entirely interested in being separated from the combined calming, grounding forces that are Arashi and Mika, but he forces himself to nod, steeling himself with a quick breath. “We’ll talk about that,” he reassures her, taking his mother by the arm to lead her from the tent. “I’ll be back in a moment, teach them how nice warming stones are, all right?” 

He pulls the tent flap shut behind them. “Be _gentle_ with them, Mama, especially Elia,” he starts in a hushed voice. “Arashi found her scrubbing shoes for the Hennessy house, and she bursts into tears if you as much as tell her that she’s pretty. Kinsley’s tougher, but only by a bit. She was on the streets, running around with a gang of thieves.” 

Maya sucks in a breath through her teeth, nodding to herself. “I’ll be careful with them. What would you like me to be to them, then? If you’re going to run about soldiering, I’ll just raise them as my own, and they can be your little sisters. Girls need a mother, you know.”

“And boys need a father, but I turned out just fine without one,” Izumi says, bristling before he hears the words leave his mouth, and he sighs, glancing away. “Sorry. No, they already call me Papa, I don’t want to confuse them anymore than they already are. Besides, they’ve…” He flutters a hand, trying to think of a way to sugarcoat it, then giving up. “They’ve basically got a mother. Mika’s as good at that as I’ve ever seen, barring you, of course.” 

“Oh.” Maya blinks, turning the information over in her head, thinking. “Well. Where’s his family from? A wizard is good, though I would have preferred a Nightcloak. But he’s sweet, and he seems to respect our traditions.”

“He’s as close to a Nightcloak as they can be without being utterly batshit.” Izumi folds his arms with a sigh. “He’s from the Sandlands. Don’t make that face, don’t you dare, I won’t hear it.” 

She purses her lips. “You know, Dayton _loves_ children--”

“Mother.” 

_“Ooh, not even Mama? Too far? Well, you can’t expect me to show respect as your betrothed if you haven’t told me. You just march in, handing me two children, and offhandedly mention that you’re also bringing back some mid-grade wizard from the Sandlands, nothing about his family, you don’t even tell me that you love him--”_

“That’s because it’s not that simple!” Izumi huffs, nose in the air. “And you’ll be snippy about it, so no, I’m not going to explain much right now unless you _promise_ to have an open mind about it, and stop trying to marry me off to people that _honestly_ don’t appeal to a single one of my sensibilities!” 

“Your ‘sensibilities’ gave me grandchildren by multiple women who polish shoes in the street,” she reminds him, poking him between the eyes, then folding her arms over her chest. “Fine, fine. Enlighten me about your sensibilities. Consider my mind open.”

Izumi scowls, looking away, and takes a deep breath. “Arashi and Mika come as a set,” he says, deciding to just get this part out of the way first. “I love both of them, this isn’t negotiable. Arashi’s a lord in his own right, with one of the largest armies in the land, and Mika might be a Nooncloak, but only because the Emperor of the Academy refused to grant him a Nightcloak out of spite. So that’s that. Mika doesn’t have a family, but he’s a wizard, it doesn’t matter. And Arashi—well, he’ll tell you whatever you want to know, I’m sure. You’re not allowed to poke and prod at Mika about his, he’s a delicate sort. But none of that _matters_ ,” he presses before she can say a word, “because my children are nobleborn, end of story. _I_ was a bastard, none of this should matter in the first place.”

Maya taps her finger slowly, rhythmically against her elbow, thinking. Finally, she says, “Just one question. How serious are you? Not two months ago, you were ready to fight an ocean for your prince, and he was _the one_.”

“And now he’s run off with another man and can’t be fucked to even politely ask for his throne back.” Izumi’s lower lip trembles. “That’s not the full story, but gods, I can’t wait for him forever. I’ve tried that.” 

“So you’ve found yourself a couple in love instead?” Her eyes crease in worry. “You’re certain this is what you want?”

“No, Mama _,_ I’m not fucking certain!” Izumi rakes a hand back through his hair, turning away in frustration. “But at least they give me the time of day and I know I’m not going to be shuffled to the back and kept as a secret whore on the damned side! Arashi, he—he came back to the Capital and the first thing he did was try to hunt every man down that tortured me. He’s the one that found Elia, and went with me to find my other girls, and they already love Mika and follow him around like they’re ducklings imprinted on him!” He exhales a hot, wet breath. “Leo, he…he’s traveling with the Emperor, the man we were _supposed_ to be trying to take down, along with his father. They’re lovers. That doesn’t make me stop loving him for some goddamned reason, but I’m trying _very hard_ to get to that point.” 

Maya sighs, and steps forward to pet his hair, tucking his face into her chest. “Shh, shh, shh. All right, very well. I suppose it’s time to head home, then, hmm? Your daughters need to see the land they’re going to rule someday. And your...lovers? Are you going to marry one of them? Ah, well, either way, the people need to meet the girls, hopefully ahead of the Annunciation. We’ll need to do the Naming as soon as possible, of course, but the Dousing needs to wait until we get proper glacier melts.”

Izumi nods, leaning against her for a moment just to catch his breath. “Arashi and I have talked about it,” he quietly says, sniffling as he leans back, wiping at his eyes. “I’d like to keep Mika out of the public eye as much as possible, he can’t handle it. But Arashi—if we marry…well, as much as we’re able, being two men, then combining the West and North…we’re a fair bit stronger than the Capital, even. And a daughter for each dominance means neither of us are without an heir.” He hesitates, then asks, “What do you think of the Demon King?” 

Maya beams, pleased that he seems to have thought at least this far ahead. “He came and had supper and tea in the camp, which is more than I can say of any other man who’s ever tried to lead me. He seems quite nice, though not necessarily a strong commander. Too pretty for me, he could use some hair on his chin. A man I wouldn’t mind having on the throne, though I’d prefer it if the West were our permanent ally, as you said.”

“He doesn’t want the throne, he’s said it himself. He just wants the Academy, but…better him, than the previous king,” Izumi murmurs. “Either way, the West will be our permanent ally. Arashi’s an honorable man, and his men love him, for good reason. I…” He trails off for a moment, then sighs, throwing up his hands. “Don’t misunderstand any of this, Mama. I _do_ love him, gods, don’t I. I wish I had met him first. I wish I hadn’t kissed Leo after holding back for seven damned years. I just feel like a fool, because I still can’t stop thinking…maybe I can do something. Maybe I can convince Leo to step away from that awful man and be the prince I thought he was.” 

“That’s not your duty,” she says firmly, grabbing him by the shoulders. “If he needs someone to convince him to be good, he’s not the man you want, and he’s _not_ good enough for you. No exceptions. If he overcomes this thrall on his own, you can feel all topsy-turvy in the belly about him again. But until then, act like a Northman, have some pride for your daughters!”

“I know.” Izumi huffs, glancing away. “That’s why I’m here, you know, and not doing as I like. I have to ask, though—did he…actually deliver a man’s dead body here? He told me he did some time ago, but I never got the chance to see it for myself, obviously.” 

“Mm, yes. Shot twice--first through the family jewels, then through the neck, then thrown from the walls with a note tied to one of the arrows. I kept the note, as it was addressed to you.” She smiles fondly. “That was a nice gesture, I quite warmed to him for a bit. Would you like the note?”

“Please.” A knot unties in Izumi’s stomach—one of many, but it’s a start. 

Maya reaches into a pouch at her belt, pulling out a tiny folded up paper, passing it over.

Dear Lady Sena (Izumi’s Mother):

_Sorry about the mess! He was too fat to carry and I thought Izumi might want to see him. Not sure whether to call this a present or a down payment. Either way, sorry I can’t fulfill the rest of it right now, but I’ve got to do this urgently!_

_Izumi (or Izumi’s Mother), I found your children! One is at Patsa’s Orphanage, one is at Lord Henessey’s in the scullery (I tried to snag her but the guards caught me, sorry!), and the other is being raised as Lady Karn._

_I’m going to a few places! The Academy and the Merchant’s Guild first--I bet you can guess why! If not, live in mystery!_

_I’ll see you soon (Izumi). Hopefully the next time I see you (Izumi’s Mother Lady Sena) I’ll be your son!_

_It’s signed with a large happy face and a few music notes, running off the side of the page._

“Fuck me,” Izumi mumbles, crumpling the note in a fit of surging regret. He doesn’t toss it, but instead, stuffs it into his pocket. He says nothing else about it, no matter how his heart aches in his chest, no matter how his head swims, unhappily muddled. “Anyway,” he says, forcing his voice not to waver, “the Emperor is headed this way, to the Capital. I don’t know what sort of trouble he’s going to stir up, but my children can’t be here. I want them in the North.” 

“I’m not leaving my men behind to fight in someone else’s war,” she says frankly. “Neither side has asked for our reinforcements, and neither has done something heinous we must protest. We break camp tomorrow and head home. You lot can come with my vanguard, we should be there in just a week or so, ahead of the rest who are coming on foot.”

“I’m not asking your men to stay and fight. I want you to go, all of you. The sooner, the better. Arashi and Mika as well—I’ll talk to them, to make sure they agree, but they already had plans to leave as well.” 

Maya’s face wavers. “When you say _you_...you’re coming with us. There’s nothing for you here.”

“Mama—“ Izumi licks at his lips, glancing away again. “I’ll come with you. After…he arrives. After I make sure that this is a lost cause. And if it is, I _swear_ I’ll head straight to the North. I just have to see it for myself. I know, I know, no matter how many times I say I’m done, I just—I can’t walk away until it’s finished. It probably is, and this is a waste of my time, but…” 

She sighs, and tousles his hair. “Idiot. Don’t say it like that. Do you think when they abducted you, I said, ‘Oh, well, I’ll march down to the Capital and ask them to maybe pretty please give my son’s body back, and if I can, I’ll try and change something?’ No! You want to stay? You stay with a _goal_ , and you come home when you’re a champion.”

“It would be good if it were that simple, Mama. It never really is, when wizards are involved, and the prince’s got the worst of the bunch rather attached to him.” Izumi grimaces. “Literally. Magically. I’d explain it, but it’s just a load of nonsense even to me.” 

“Also,” she says dryly, “I’m not interested in you telling me why you can’t do what you want to do. If you’re not going to be useful down here, come North with me and take care of your children, they’ve suffered long enough.”

“You know, Mama, I thought you’d be fucking proud of me for saying I can’t walk away until I’m completely finished with this mess, but fine, nothing I do’s going to please anyone, I get that now. So fuck it, right? Here’s me putting my foot down, then.” 

Izumi brushes past her, turning around to storm back to her tent, yanking open the flap and ignoring guards that fall over themselves to kneel. “Arashi, come here, I need to talk to you.” 

Arashi rises from where he’s sitting sharp-eyed, keeping watch, finger to his lips as he nods to Mika, Elia, and Kinsley all curled up sleeping on the warming stone. He smiles, and follows Izumi out of the tent before asking, “How’d it go?”

“Go North with them. Please. My mother’s leaving tomorrow.” Izumi stares up at him, wavering, then says, “I’ll follow you within the week, after I speak to Leo, or the Emperor, or…whoever I can get my hands on, I don’t know, and I don’t care. I can’t leave without putting a proper end to this, I’m sorry.” 

Arashi blinks, then nods, and darts a look side to side, making sure no one is watching before he presses a soft kiss to Izumi’s lips. “All right, be safe. You sure you don’t want me to stay and help?”

“I don’t trust anyone else but you to keep those three safe,” Izumi quietly says, “because even if you’re riding ahead of the Emperor…I don’t know, something could happen. I’ve explained the situation to my mother, and she knows not to poke and prod Mika, and she knows about our plans, with the North and the West. She’s just…ugh, she’s doing that _mom_ thing, trying to make me second guess everything _again_ , and so I’m doing the shitty thing and pushing her off onto you for now.” He forces a smile. “Sorry. At least I can’t die, right?” 

“Do me a favor and don’t keep testing that,” Arashi says softly, and his mouth quirks up at the corner. “Kick Leo’s ass a little, will you? I know, he can’t control it, but still, gross. And then...come home.”

“That’s the plan. I’m angrier now than I was before.” He pulls out the crumpled letter, stuffing it into Arashi’s hand. “For safekeeping. Read it, let it sink in that he knew about where my goddamn babies were, and forgot to fucking tell me. Also—“ 

Izumi grabs Arashi by the collar, yanking him down to kiss him hard, within full view of whatever soldier that happens to be passing by. “No one gives a shit in the North, and we’re getting as married as we can get,” he breathes, eyes flashing. “Got it?” 

Arashi stumbles slightly, cheeks red. “O-oh my,” he breathes. “You sure know how to make a lady feel all twitterpatted. Go, go on then. I’ll see you soon. Don’t die.”

“Kiss Mika like that, so he’s not mad at me,” Izumi orders, taking a step back. “I’ll have your things and horse brought out to you. See you soon!” 


	50. Chapter 50

The North moves out the next day, right on schedule, and a weight lifts from Izumi’s shoulders, with a sense of longing replacing it. 

It’s just one more thing to occupy his mind, he wearily supposes, stacked onto the worry about his children, the stress over Leo, the strange, intense spurts of _need_ to see Makoto—but he shoves it all down, forcing himself to focus, _needing_ to focus.

Barely a day after Arashi and Mika leave, Izumi is left to contemplate his next move, which he does while spending an inordinate amount of time braiding his horse’s mane. Lost in thought, he doesn’t notice the familiar shock of red hair that steps down the stable hall until the stall door next to his own creaks open, and Izumi glances up, blinking. “…Mao?” 

An hour later, with every attempt for both of them to be amicable reached, Izumi finds himself armed with far more knowledge than expected. Mao, apparently, has been in the Capital since before the Demon King arrived, as has Ritsu—the latter, bemusedly, refusing to stay within the palace, no matter that his brother is in charge. Instead, he can be found at Tsukasa’s, and Mao can as well, save for his visits to the dungeons, where he keeps a careful eye on those still loyal specifically to the Emperor. “The princess asks about you,” Mao says, saddling his horse. “She and her mother don’t have a lot of love for the Suou family, but, well. It was that, or leave for the South.” 

“Tell her I’ll see her soon.”

“I’ll tell her that you’re going to visit her brother soon, more like. They’re about…twelve hours from here, they took the long way from High Harbor, the scenic route.” Mao rolls his eyes. “Sounds like the Emperor.” 

“That’s so close. Shouldn’t Rei have warned us about it by now?” 

“Why would he, when he just plans to rip their heads off?” Mao snorts, tightening his horse’s girth. “What you need to understand is that he’s uninterested in diplomacy. You agree with him, good job. You don’t, you’re dead. If you’re a liability, he’ll do what he can to limit that, if you’re useful in some other way.” He hesitates, as if he’s about to say something else, then he shakes his head, and hauls himself up into the saddle. “Good luck. I can’t get involved in this anymore.” 

He’s gone, and Izumi hastens to saddle his own horse, uninterested in letting the Emperor get any closer without his own investigation. 

The ‘scenic route’ is one that Izumi has ridden many times before in the past, just because, or for hunting purposes. It’s also a roundabout way to the West, and he’s never been more grateful that he _knows_ his mother wouldn’t be going this way, or that Arashi has no desire to go to his home right now. Less than six hours into the ride, with the sun quickly going down, there’s a tiny, off-shoot town absolutely meant only for weary travelers. Taking a wild guess, he pulls Vale off the road and onto the dirt streets, down to the single inn there, and to the building vaguely resembling a stable. He whistles, and a familiar nicker catches his ear as one of the horses whips around in his stall, slinging his head over the door. 

Tempo.

_He slides off of Vale’s back, slapping his ass to send him thundering back to the main road unattended (he’ll eat for hours and nothing else, which is fine for right now) before he pulls up his hood, cinching it tightly as he heads into the inn, his heart thudding._

“Tell me I’m wasting my time, Yuzuru. Every day I look at him, he just gets on my nerves more and more.” 

The dining area is hardly empty, but what catches Izumi’s eye is the tiny group in one corner, which he pointedly sits across from, angled so that he can only see them out of the corner of his eye. Eichi is unmistakable—tall even when he’s seated, with his hair glittering pale and platinum in low light—and Leo is no better, seated at his side. Izumi can only assume the one sitting across from them is Yuzuru, and whatever captives Eichi supposedly has are no where to be found. 

“I keep thinking—the theatrics of killing him in the middle of the Capital, that’s important. But at the same time, then I’m going to have to deal with the Demon King throwing a proper tantrum, and he’s been so _tame_ so far. Am I too old for this? Ahh, I wish Wataru were here,” Eichi says wistfully. “He understands this sort of thing.” 

Yuzuru, face as impassive as he can manage, bows slightly. “Whatever will allow us to reach our destination in the Capital most quickly, Excellency, is what I believe to be most expedient. My poor little master must be quite terrified, all alone without me...I do hope his captors are reading him his favorite stories, or he gets ill in the night.”

“Or you could let him go,” Leo suggests wearily. Every time Eichi looks away, a sausage roll or pasty goes up his sleeve, then into his pockets. “Show how, ah, fearsome in your mercy the Emperor is.”

“Now that’s just silly, there’s nothing fearsome about mercy,” Eichi sniffs. “Don’t worry, Yuzuru. The first thing I’ll do is—well, maybe not the first, because Tsumugi needs to _die_ —make sure that Tori is safe and sound and in my arms again. And yours, of course. Rei wouldn’t’ve killed him, he’s too soft for that.” He shifts restlessly. “Honestly, just knowing he’s _there_ still…to hell with it, I’ll slaughter that captain of his instead, Rei cares about him just as much, and the Capital cares more about humans. I need to go take my frustration out on that traitorous slime right now.” 

“Very good, Excellency,” Yuzuru says with another bow, and returns to pushing his food around his plate into the shape of Tori’s face.

“Wait,” Leo interrupts, frowning. “You don’t mean right now. We’re eating.”

“Of course I mean right now, that’s what I mean when I say _right now._ ” Eichi huffs, slowly rising to his feet. “Stay put, it’s not like this will take long, and then I can stop thinking about it.” 

“Wait.”

Leo’s voice has a hint of panic, but he squashes that down, rising quickly to his own feet, shucking his lumpy-pocketed cloak and leaving it on his chair. His eyes cloud suddenly with lust, and he reaches over the table, grabbing Eichi by the shirt, yanking him close. “You mean there’s something on your mind that’s not me? Ah...I’m jealous...”

Eichi hesitates…for a second. Then he sighs, pushing Leo back down, petting his hair as if he’s placating a needy pet cat. “Just wait patiently. Once he’s dead, then you’ll be all I have to think about. Doesn’t that sound good?” 

“No.” Leo hooks a leg around Eichi’s waist, tugging him close, letting his own breath hitch as his eyelids flutter. That hunger--it isn’t faked. It’s always simmering just under the surface these days, as if all he has to do is _think_ about it and it’ll consume his thoughts. “I want you to think about me _now_. Ah...I suppose...if you have to go somewhere, I could get someone else to play with me...” His hand slides down, thumbing over one of his own nipples, sending a shock through his own body, making his pulse quicken. “You might come back inside...to find someone else having me on this table...it won’t feel the same, but maybe...”

“Oh, honestly…” Eichi exhales a sigh, but it’s far more placating now, even as he slaps Leo’s hand away to replace it with his own. “If you’re going to act like this in public, I’m going to have you over the table myself,” he lowly threatens, pinching one of Leo’s nipples as he yanks him into his lap, settling him down over his already hard erection to hide it. “Behave. Ahh, what was I talking about, this brat is so _distracting._ I never thought a real bond would be like this, it’s very troubling.” 

Leo loops his arms around Eichi’s neck, nearly purring at the contact, even as he flushes at the thought of how many people are in the Inn. “Hnn, take me upstairs. You don’t really want to embarrass me like that, do you?”

“Excellency, shall I leave?”

“You know what, yes,” Eichi snaps, jerking back up to his feet and yanking Leo up with him. “Because now I have to deal with _this_.” 

Leo reaches up, wrapping his legs around Eichi, ducking his face into his neck. “Everyone here knows who I am,” he murmurs into his ear, eyes blown with lust. It takes him over when they’re this close, makes him feel sick with hunger, as if it’s the only thing that matters. “Hurry, get me into private, or they’ll know what you’ve turned their prince into...”

“I already said we’re going, stop _breathing_ on me.” 

Eichi sounds annoyed, but his own breath already comes too fast, and he hefts Leo up with a huff of effort, taking to the stairs in short order, disappearing up them. Izumi waits, no matter how his teeth are gritted, no matter how he swears he’s going to break the handle of his ale tankard clear off, until Yuzuru vanishes. 

This is a stupid idea, but so help him, he’s probably done stupider things. 

The thought of Leo being reduced to nothing more than _this_ makes Izumi so angry that he can’t think past it. So, he waits, drinks, and waits more until he’s calm enough to grab the arm of the nearest, prettiest barmaid, and bats his eyelashes up at her. “Hello, Milady. The cute redhead that just went upstairs with his friend, could you do me a favor that involves him in a few minutes?” 

Fifteen minutes later, a knock hesitantly comes upon Eichi’s door. “Milord? I hate to be interrupting you, but there’s been a sightin’ of horse thieves in the area. Would you come down to the stables to make sure yours wasn’t one of them swiped?”

Eichi, sated, if not moody and still overstimulated, grumbles and shifts, giving Leo a nudge. “Deal with it, you’re the one that likes those smelly things.” 

Leo presses a kiss to Eichi’s temple, then tugs on his hair. “I haven’t worn you out enough, if you’re still talking,” he teases, standing and hopping into his trousers. “I’m going to make you have me again when I get back, so don’t waste that energy. It’s mine.”

Then he slips down the stairs, nodding cheerily to the barmaid on his way down to the stables. “Tempo, you shouldn’t let anyone get stolen on your watch,” he scolds, heading into the stables, tying his hair into a short tail. “What kind of a guard horse is...”

He catches a glimpse of silver hair, and his world spins. “Izumi,” he whispers, eyes wide, and his knees buckle, making him stumble as he races forward, grabbing at Izumi’s shirt, touching his chest as if checking that he’s still alive, that he’s real.

“Shh, shh, don’t say my name, you little idiot,” Izumi hisses, jerking him straight into one of the horse stalls, slamming it shut behind him and yanking up his cloak more thoroughly over his hair. “Are you all right?” he whispers, grabbing up Leo’s face in his hands. “Ugh, you look like a mess, and I can’t even fix it or he’ll know…” 

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Leo assures him, tears pricking at his eyes. “I didn’t think I’d see you again, are you--thank the gods you’re here, you can kill me. Hurry, do it now.”

“What? No, absolutely not, are you insane?” 

Izumi exhales a breath, and quickly crushes Leo to his chest, burying his face down into his hair. “That’s not happening,” he quietly says. “It’s not. I’m sorry, Leo, I can’t do that.” 

Leo lets himself enjoy the hug for a long moment then pushes Izumi away, grabbing for his dagger. “You’ve got to,” he insists, shoving it into Izumi’s hand. “It’ll kill him, it’s the only way--I can’t--I can’t do it myself, and every time I’m close to him, I can’t think, my whole mind goes blank, I can barely--please, if you love me, just do it.”

“That’s not fair and I’m not doing it!” Izumi slams the dagger down into the wood of the stall, and grabs Leo by the shoulders, shaking him. “You’ve given me enough hell, so you’re going to do something yourself this time,” he hisses. “Shu’s perfectly goddamn functional when he’s around Rei, and their bond is stronger than yours. I know, I _asked_. Unless you prefer being his cute little concubine, and giving up every single time your dick gets hard.” 

“That’s not fair,” Leo whispers, eyes red. “I’m--I’m trying to do the right thing! I’ve asked, Rei’s doing a fine job running everything so far. Let him keep doing it! All I care about is my country, my sister and you, and all of those things will be safe if Eichi is dead. It’s the _only_ way to kill him, so what’s _your_ plan? Ack, _forget it_.”

He scrubs his hand over his face, absently pressing a kiss to Izumi’s hand. “If you can’t do that, you’ve gotta get the captives free. They’re in the locked wagon behind the Inn. I’ll throw the keys outside after I get back up there and he falls asleep. I’m--I’ve been trying to--I--they’re still alive. I did what I could, but it’s...tiring...and he’s losing his patience...”

Izumi’s lips purse, and he nods. “I’ll set them free. How many are there? No, to hell with it, I don’t care. I’ll deal with it.” 

He grabs Leo close again by the hand, scowling down at him. “Rei doesn’t want your damned throne. He wants the Academy, nothing else, and he’s _definitely_ just waiting for you to make your move. If you don’t want it, then you need to tell me now, so I can tell him and he can stop expecting something that’s never going to happen.” 

Leo clenches his fists, looking down at them, humiliation burning inside him. “I want it so bad I wake up every morning thinking I’m there,” he whispers. “But I don’t think I deserve it anymore. I’ll never be free of him, as long as I live. And I can’t be trusted when he’s alive.”

“There has to be another way to kill him. Mika said he was the weakest he’s ever seen him last time—so that means he _can_ be weakened, and maybe killed, too.” Izumi leans back, folding his arms. “So long as you still want the throne, I’ll do everything I can to help you,” he quietly says. “Aside from killing you, because that’s defeating the damned purpose. I’m not interested in hearing how you don’t deserve it, though. You either want it or you don’t.”

Leo sniffs, but nods, butting his head against Izumi’s chest. “Yeah. I still want it. My dream...is still alive, if you can see it. Ugh, I didn’t want this, you _know_ I didn’t want this, I wanted...you. Just you. Heh...at least I can be some use for right now, right?” His eyes water so freely that the tears run off his chin in a stream as he tries to laugh. “I g-guess I can’t t-t-tease you for how m-much you wanted to, to do it, anymore...”

Irritation, frustration, exhaustion—all of that flutters out the window when Leo cries like that, and Izumi gives up, winding his arms around Leo, firmly pulling him into his chest. “I know you’re doing it to try and keep him from killing other people,” he quietly says, “but there has to be _some_ way for you to…I don’t know. Have a stopgap to it? Or maybe try being the world’s most annoying little brat, then he’ll snap it like he snapped mine.” 

“Eh? He what?”

“You heard me. Gods, not that I was even aware it was there,” Izumi mutters, glancing away. “But he snipped it right in half, apparently. I don’t know why, to fuck with me? To fuck with us? Who knows, he’s nuts.” 

Leo shivers. “I didn’t know that. I didn’t know he did that, I didn’t know he could...weird, I thought that would kill you. I wonder why he hasn’t done it to us? Gods know I’ve annoyed him a lot, he’s definitely seen through my plan, even if he can’t stop me.”

“Because he’s obsessed with having a bond, that’s why. The one he had with the Faerie—fake or something like it. So now that he’s got one, he’s like some kind of an addict.” Izumi makes a face. “Gross. Anyway, I thought it was just killing the other person that would kill you…but what do I know, all of this wizard nonsense gives me a headache.” 

“Same,” Leo says, with a crooked, tired smile. “We were doing all right without any of this shit, weren’t we? Heh...remember when all we had to worry about was how scared you are that someone would find out you could heal?” He reaches up, lip quivering as he brushes the hair back from Izumi’s face. “It’s long again, good.”

“Yeah. And Shu trimmed it up, so it doesn’t look like a hot mess.” Izumi’s eyes lid, and he catches Leo’s hand, squeezing it. “Maybe stop letting him get his way,” he softly says, “with you specifically. I’m going to use Rei and Shu as an example here again, because I know you’re not a slave to him. If he’s an addict, then maybe he’ll behave himself for your approval.” 

“I’ve been panicking,” Leo whispers, avoiding Izumi’s eyes. “I’ve been--ugh, I don’t want to say it out loud, it makes me feel like a cheap whore, but--on some things, I’ve tried, I’ve _tried_ , but he’s...capricious. He’ll just decide to do something and I have to think really fast, he’s decided to kill the prisoners at least eight times just on the way from High Harbor. The only good thing is that so far, I’ve always been able to seduce him whenever he tries, no matter how obvious about it I am, and you’re right, he is weak, he’s always exhausted after.”

“Unfortunate that you’re cute, huh.” Izumi heaves a sigh, and gently pulls on Leo’s ponytail. “I wonder why he’s so weak. Figure that out, and I wonder if that’s the secret to killing him…without killing you, god willing. I’ll try to talk to Rei about it. What even is his plan anymore? Is he trying to rip the Capital and Academy away from Rei again?” 

“I don’t know,” Leo says wearily. “I don’t know. He’s like a child, he’s mad because they took his things. Just--if you can free the hostages, I’ll feel so much better, they deserve better than this.” 

“Leo. If that’s seriously the answer, good, I’ll take it and run with it, but if you know anything about what he’s going to do once he gets to the Capital, think and tell me now.” 

Leo chews on his bottom lip. “All he’s talked about is teaching Rei a lesson and doing public executions, seriously. I don’t know if that’s one and the same or not, but I know he thinks executing those three is really gonna hurt him.”

His mouth twists suddenly. “I have to go, he’s wondering what’s taking me so long. Just--”

He presses a hard kiss to Izumi’s mouth. “Get them out. I’ll distract him until it’s too late. Go, I love you, _go_.”

“I’ll do what I can, I swear,” Izumi promises him, unlatching the stall door. His heart thumps painfully, but he doesn’t have time for that right now. “Throw me the keys when he passes out, I know which window is yours now.” 

Leo nods, and darts off.

Twenty minutes later, a window opens, and an iron key hits the ground with a little puff of dirt, just as the window surreptitiously closes again.

It’s a good idea, in theory. 

The problem, of course, is that Yuzuru doesn’t seem to fucking _sleep._ Izumi waits, and waits, and waits longer, until he’s nearly asleep where he stands, but Yuzuru isn’t, not until he’s called away by…gods, probably Eichi, and that makes this a dozen times more dangerous. Izumi reminds himself that he can’t _really_ die, no matter how he’d rather not have that put to the test, and he sneaks around to the carriage, fumbling with the lock in the near pitch-black darkness. 

“Tsumugi?” He’s the only one Izumi knows for sure that has to be here, so it’s the only name he calls. The door is loud when he helps it creak open, and Izumi winces. “If you’re able, answer me, it’s Izumi and I’m trying to help you escape.” 

“Izumi?”

The voice is weary and scratchy, accompanied by a cough. “Ah...thank the gods, I was hoping they’d send someone. I can move, but...”

The first person who comes out of the wagon, however, is Subaru, with a cloak-wrapped bundle in his arms. “Good to see you, whoever you are,” he says, winking. “Should we run? That mole guy definitely has magic alarms set on this place.”

“Shit,” Izumi mutters, quickly stepping back to let Subaru out. “It’s you. Of course he’d grab you up—yes, definitely, we need to run. I’ve got one horse, but he can carry a couple of people, or I can steal another one, how many of you are there? And how injured?” 

“Just three. I can run, or I can ride, either way. Mumu in there is pretty messed up, and I’ll carry Ukki here.”

Tsumugi waves weakly, and gestures down at his legs, one of which is bent at an altogether sickening angle, swollen in sick bruises. “If you can get me on a horse, I’ll do what I can,” he offers, “but please consider leaving me behind, if you can get those two to safety.”

Izumi’s heart stops, and for the life of him, he can’t figure out why. 

Yuukun, he’s carrying Yuukun, is he all right, is he hurt, too, did Eichi snapping that bond hurt him more than me, did he—

_No, focus, focus, focus, focus—_

_Izumi swallows hard, and forces himself forward into the wagon. “This is going to hurt like a bitch,” he warns Tsumugi, and rests a hand against his broken leg. “Sorry.”_

The sickening crack required to shove that bone first back into place makes Izumi’s teeth grit, and the hurried, abrupt healing to follow can’t do it any favors…or so Izumi would think, but it’s Tsumugi, and damned if he barely seems to react to the whole ordeal. “We’re running, I’ll steal a second horse on the way,” he says, grabbing Tsumugi’s hand to haul him upright. “You’re fucking weird, anyone ever tell you that?” 

“Often, thank you,” Tsumugi says shakily, taking Izumi’s hand and hitting the ground running. “But it certainly seems to come in handy just now, don’t you think? Ah, Subaru certainly is full of energy...apologies, I’m not that fast...”

Subaru is already a dozen paces ahead, only pausing to make sure the two of them are following before he runs ahead again, Makoto’s head lolling to the side over his shoulder.

“Keep going down the road, my horse is there!” Izumi shouts after him, and it’s the last thing he manages to say before an explosion—from where? he can’t even pinpoint it—lands somewhere near them, knocking him off of his feet and skidding into the road in a heap. The sound of it alone makes his ears ring and makes the world move too slowly around him, but he shoves himself up onto his elbows, struggling to catch his breath when the wind’s knocked out of him so solidly. 

“I was wondering when you’d turn up, half-breed.” 

The toe of Eichi’s boot catches him underneath his chin, kicking him backwards and making his head crack against the ground again, and Izumi snarls as he tastes blood. “Nice job, honestly! I love a good challenge, but _you_ —“ Eichi’s attention swiftly shifts to Tsumugi, also knocked flat from the explosion, which now seems to have lingering wizard fire clinging to trees and the ground itself, flickering low and golden in the night. “You aren’t allowed to run anymore.” His voice is lower, colder, and he takes a step closer. “Come here. Maybe if you crawl to me and ask nicely, I’ll consider _not_ ripping the skin of your pretty little kitty-cat off when I get to the Capital tomorrow.” 

“Izumi,” Tsumugi says gently, walking between him and Eichi, “please get the rest to safety. Eichi, what would you like me to do that I haven’t done already?” He kneels, then moves forward onto all fours, as requested, though a ripple of disappointment, fear, and anger twitches at the corner of his eyes. 

“Eichi! Don’t!”

Hoofbeats echo in the night air, Leo sliding off his bareback horse as he approaches, eyes wild, hair wilder. “Don’t hurt them. You’ll--you’ll disappoint me. I’ll leave if you do, I don’t want you to do this!”

“Leo, be reasonable,” Eichi sighs, not looking away from Tsumugi, a mix of vague satisfaction and annoyance crossing over his face. “When captives decide to run away, something has to be done about it.” 

Izumi, slowly easing himself up to his feet until now, takes one look at Leo’s horse, and goes for it. He snatches up Tempo’s reins, hauls himself up onto his bare back, and kicks him into a gallop, speeding away to catch up to the sounds of Vale’s much heavier hoofbeats, undoubtedly spurred on by Subaru further up the road.

“Oh well, I’ll see him tomorrow, anyway,” Eichi dismisses, glancing back down to Tsumugi. “Aren’t you delighted? You’re the main event now.” He doesn’t sound as entertained as he thought he’d be, however, and his teeth grit. “Gods, _honestly_ , I just want you dead, even just looking at you makes me want to scream.” 

Tsumugi straightens up, giving Eichi a sad look. “I wish you didn’t feel that way. Eichi, you have what you wanted so badly for so long. I truly wish you could be happy with it.”

“Listen to him,” Leo urges, coming forward to take Eichi’s hand, squeezing it. “You don’t need to punish him, he’s not fighting you, what’s the point?”

“The point is that I _hate him_ , why is that so hard to understand?” 

Eichi switches his grip, grabbing Leo’s wrist instead and jerking him close with a hand wrapped up into his hair. “Eventually, this bond needs to be strong enough so that you can see _exactly_ into my mind, so you don’t have to ask such stupid questions,” he breathes, and without looking up, snaps, “Yuzuru. Be useful, throw this useless traitor back into the wagon so I can go and get some sleep.” 

“Yes, Excellency.”

Leo’s eyes blaze, and he grabs Eichi’s wrist, looking defiantly up at him. “Or maybe it’ll be strong enough that you’ll feel some compassion through me. I want to believe that you’re better than this. But you’re making it really hard!”

Eichi heaves a long sigh as he tilts his head back. “I have plenty of compassion. I didn’t kill that half-breed, did I? Because I know you love him so much. When I hand the throne back to you, you can have him all you like, just so long as you teach him a bit of respect. I don’t like the way he glares at me, it’s just plain rude.” 

“He thinks you’re the one who snapped his resonant bond.” Because Leo _had_ understood, even if he hadn’t wanted to. His hand relaxes, and he lets his fingers thread between Eichi’s. “Why not just let Tsumugi go? I’m starting to think those rumors about you being obsessed with him are true...I’m enough for you, aren’t I?”

“Don’t start with that again,” Eichi sighs, begrudgingly letting his other hand stroke Leo’s hair rather than pull on it. “I’m proving a point with him that’s very necessary. If you don’t give me what I want, there are consequences. At any rate, _what_ was that about me snapping your half-breed’s bond?” 

“That’s what he thinks,” Leo says, though he can’t entirely say why he’s saying it. “They know, somehow, that you were going to use that kid against him. That’s my guess. So it doesn’t matter that they got away, right? Hey...”

Leo strokes down Eichi’s chest, the nearness of him frying his mind again, making it misfire. “You should listen to your prince, don’t you think?”

Eichi’s lips quirk. “Maybe. Because you’ve given me some useful information,” he murmurs, bending down and catching Leo’s chin between his fingers to lift his head up. “If you want something, you can ask for it.” 

_I want you to fuck me on the side of the road_ is what Leo almost says, leaning up instinctively for a kiss, but...

But Izumi’s voice is still in his ear, in his head. “I want you to stop with the punishments. Please. Let him go. If nothing else, it’ll shock your enemies so much they won’t know how to protest against you.” He’s still shaky, still wobbly, but it’s a far sight better than he’s been able to do until now.

A sigh follows that, and Eichi leans back, releasing Leo’s face with a disappointed pout. “As much as I’d like to appease you,” he grumpily says, because he does, annoyingly enough, want to give in and do just that, “I can’t. Not with Tsumugi. The other two can go, I don’t care. I won’t chase them down. But Tsumugi…he stays. Ah, a compromise! I won’t kick him around any longer, how’s that?” 

Leo huffs, then shrugs. “It’s a start. I can work with this. Mmmm, nnnnn, thank you. Now...”

He pushes Eichi back, off the road, eyes glinting. “Want to cover my clothes with grass stains as a way of making it official?”

“What happened to ‘everyone around here knows me, you can’t do this in public’?” Eichi mildly asks, even as he grabs Leo by the front of his shirt, hauling him close. “Are you trying to condition me? I agree to one of your silly requests, and you reward me with sex?” 

Leo winks cheekily. “Is it working? Hahaha! No, you just agreed and it made me happy, and it made me want to make you happy! Ahhh, besides, it’s nighttime, so it’s dark, right? No one will know it’s us.”

“Ahh, I suppose you’re right, though you’ve worn me out from before…” Eichi’s eyes lid in thought, his fingers sliding back through Leo’s hair to dislodge it from its ponytail. “Perhaps we should start with your knees acquiring grass stains, then.” 

Leo sucks in a breath, and at that, he does look left and right, ears turning pink at the idea of doing _that_ in public. Still, the idea does have a certain appeal...

Slowly, he drops to his knees, swallowing hard as he reaches for the laces of Eichi’s trousers. “You made a promise to feed it to me,” he whispers huskily, hands tracing over the now-familiar shape of Eichi’s thick cock. “I don’t think I can take much more than the head, though...”

“We’ll see about that,” Eichi sighs, his eyes lidded as he leans back against the hard trunk of a tree, letting Leo do the work of unlacing him. His fingers drift to Leo’s hair, threading back through it. “I want to see how much you can take.” 

Leo’s mouth opens as if by Eichi’s order, eyes lidding as he leans forward, flicking the tip of his tongue over the head of Eichi’s cock. “Still tastes like oil from earlier,” he murmurs, “even if I cleaned you off. Ah...you won’t make me take the _whole_ thing, will you?”

Eichi’s breath hitches, and his fingers tighten in Leo’s hair. “You don’t even want to try?” he lowly teases, his other hand reaching down to curl around the base of his cock, squeezing slowly. Just the touch of Leo’s tongue makes his blood pump too-hot, too-fast, and he pushes the head of his cock against his parted lips. “Open up a bit more, and watch those sharp teeth of yours.” 

It’s too much almost immediately. Leo’s mouth fills with just the head of Eichi’s cock, and he whimpers, feeling the stretch of his lips wide around just the tip, dragging the flat of his tongue over the slit. He breathes through his nose, and tries to take more, tries to keep his mouth wide, tries to avoid scraping his teeth over that skin, but there’s just so _much_.

“Your mouth’s so hot,” Eichi breathes, slowly petting Leo’s hair. He barely moves at first, only enough to let his cock rub against Leo’s tongue. “I’ll keep this in mind for when you’re saying things that annoy me. It’s a good look for you. Now, behave.” 

His fingers tighten against the back of Leo’s head, pushing him forward as Eichi shoves his cock further down his throat, until the head of his cock bumps into the back of his throat. “Breathe through your nose, I know it’s not too far down yet,” he rasps, his cock twitching, dripping steadily now. “I know when it’s really too much, don’t forget that.” 

Leo blinks rapidly, nervously sucking in air, even as he leans in. The idea that he’s tasting something so intimate makes him shudder, along with the old embarrassment and shame that he’s always felt even considering something like this. _Proud men don’t do things like this. Princes don’t do anything like this._

But damned if he doesn’t want to.

Eichi’s cock bumps against his throat, and he chokes, but doesn’t pull off, feeling Eichi’s cock grow slicker when he starts to drool.

“There we go, that’s a good boy,” Eichi groans, and his self-control wavers helplessly. His hips twitch forward, and his cock slides forward down Leo’s throat before he chokes again, nestling itself there. Another, light tug on Leo’s hair, and he pulls him down until his nose brushes against his stomach, leaving Eichi to shiver hard, his cock throbbing between those slick lips, throbbing against his tongue. “See? It fits. Ahh, if I came right now, I bet you couldn’t even taste it…” 

He pulls Leo off by the hair before he truly can’t breathe, his eyes glittering, cock rubbing against his tongue. “This is just another reason why you’re my favorite plaything, I suppose.” 

Leo gags, eyes watering, braced on his arms as he coughs and tries not to retch. “S-sorry, it’s so much, I can’t--nnh, give it back, though, I want it, yeah?” He looks up, hands coming to rest on Eichi’s thighs, huge green eyes blinking. “You won’t let me truly asphyxiate, will you?”

“No, I won’t.” Eichi thumbs open his mouth again, unable to resist when Leo says _give it back_ —and unwilling to, besides. “You’re being so good,” he sighs, easing his cock past those swollen lips once more, and he’s much faster about letting it fill Leo’s mouth this time, a shallow thrust letting it drag over Leo’s tongue, then further, when he pulls Leo’s hair. 

Leo gags almost immediately, but refuses to pull off this time, letting Eichi drive into his throat. His nipples tingle, and his pulse thuds in his ears, vision swimming. His cock strains against his trousers just from the thought of what he’s doing, and he moans, eyes crossing at the thick intrusion into his mouth, into his throat, the taste overwhelming and all he can think of. 

Eichi’s never been able to hear his thoughts, the way they say bonded couples can--but they connect so _well_ like this, maybe that’s the trade-off. Just now, Leo isn’t sure he’d prefer the other way.

Leo’s mouth is slick and hot, but feeling him _struggle_ to swallow his cock down is more alluring than both of those things. Eichi’s breath escapes fast and hard as he thrusts forward, not _too_ hard, not when Leo gags, but whenever he feels the slightest bit of tension leave, whenever he’s sure he can shove his cock down Leo’s throat and stay there, even if it’s for a second. He’s achingly hard, dripping and twitching as he grinds forward, fucking into Leo’s mouth because nothing feels better in that moment. 

His fingers tighten into Leo’s hair when his cock throbs suddenly too-hard, and Eichi grunts as he shoves up when he pulls Leo down, burying himself entirely down Leo’s twitching, spasming throat as he comes. He spills pulse after pulse down his throat, not letting up until he feels himself drained dry, and even then, he only pulls back enough that the head of his cock still rests on Leo’s tongue, his fingers twisted up tightly into Leo’s hair. “Lick it clean,” he orders breathlessly, slumping back against the tree. 

Leo’s hands tremble as they move, wrapping around the base of Eichi’s cock, holding it almost lovingly as he laves the head with shaky licks of his tongue, laving it clean from root to tip. He finishes with a last suck to the slit, until he’s certain that he’s swallowed every drop, then finally lets it slip from between his lips. His face burns as he gasps for breath. “That was...I shouldn’t do such things, I’m--that was...”

Eichi yanks him up, hauling Leo abruptly to his feet and shoving him back against the tree instead. His fingers yank open Leo’s laces, grabbing at his achingly hard cock as he sucks on the side of his neck, stroking him from root to tip, squeezing him slowly. “How are you going to rule a country when you’re obsessed with having my cock down your throat?” he breathes. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I like you this way.” 

Leo groans, clutching at Eichi’s shirt, rutting shamelessly up against his hand. “Rather be on your cock,” he breathes. Even if it isn’t true all of the time, it’s true now, when Eichi is touching him so beautifully. “Just--you p-promised, please, I need--at least put your fingers in me, please, I’m empty--”

Eichi exhales a snort of amusement, and drags his hand away, shoving a pair of fingers past Leo’s lips instead to twist them against his tongue, leaving them slick and sticky by the time he pulls them away again. “Needy, aren’t you,” he murmurs, yanking Leo’s breeches down until they pool about his ankles, and he reaches back, sliding those two fingers against his still-slick hole before letting them sink inside and press deep. His other hand drags up, pinching Leo’s nipples through the fabric of his shirt. “Luckily, I think you’re cute.”

Leo licks his lips, the taste hot on his tongue, cock jolting harder at the fingers inside him than they had at the hand around his cock. “Dunno...what you’re doing to me,” he whispers, eyes rolling back in his head, squirming down. “F-feels better...like this...than when you touch my cock...not sure what I’m...turning into...”

“You’re my little pet, obviously.” Eichi twists his fingers, curling them deeper, shoving them up slowly inside. Another tweak of a nipple makes Leo clench even harder around him, and Eichi’s lips twitch as he rubs his fingers slowly against that little spot inside of Leo that he knows _very_ well by now. 

Leo cries out, too-loud in the quiet night, spilling onto the ground when Eichi plays him like a musical instrument, plucking his strings so well he shudders, coming in long spurts that leave him feeling empty. He mewls, clutching at Eichi, sweat dripping down the back of his neck. “I love being your pet,” he confesses.

“Then aren’t you lucky that you don’t have much of a choice in the matter,” Eichi sighs, pleased as he presses a kiss so the top of Leo’s head, slowly pulling his fingers free. “This is troublesome, though,” he complains, huffily tucking himself back into his own pants. “I can’t get anything done.” 

“And I can’t think of anything else.” Leo snorts. “I almost understand why someone would snap the bond.”

“Your half-breed should consider himself lucky,” Eichi sniffs, even as he wipes Leo clean with a handkerchief and then laces him back up. “I didn’t snap his, though. I’m not lying about that.”

“Is it really possible?” Leo asks with a frown, nuzzling against Eichi’s chest. “Mm, I’m done walking, carry me back. Legs are noodles.”

“Of course it’s possible.” Eichi picks him up with a sigh, partially tossing him over one shoulder. “With a deft hand, admittedly. I can only think of one person with a hand that gentle, which is very…amusing.” 

“It seems...wrong,” Leo mutters, reaching down to grab Eichi’s ass. “Ah, too muscley. I thought anyone who had a bond would never want to snap one. Feel like it would...feel like losing part of your soul. Don’t you think?”

“Don’t grab me. Well, I suppose I _did_ threaten to use that little wizard to torment him and turn the half-breed against all of them,” Eichi cheerfully says, letting himself back into the inn and going straight up the stairs. “But you’re right, I can’t imagine it feels pleasant to break someone else’s bond. I tried, once, but didn’t get very far. I think it can only be done with very thin, delicate ones. Oh well, not my problem.”

“I hate the way you talk about people like they’re playthings,” Leo grumbles. “Except me. In a sex way. Ugh, do you think this is ever going to die down, between us? Or like, calm down? A little? Ever? Even right now I want you in me.”

“It would be good if it did,” Eichi grinds out, kicking open the door to their room. “Because it’s obnoxious and distracting. Don’t say that again or I’ll…I’ll…I don’t know, I’ll do something that isn’t sexual, I’m going to tie you to the—no, that doesn’t work, damn it!”

“You could tie me up,” Leo says enthusiastically. “That sounds fun. What position would you tie me into?”

“I _just_ told you to stop.” 

“Yeah, I’ve been bad. Spank me.”

Eichi’s teeth grit, and he tosses Leo down onto the bed. “This,” he flatly says, “is _maddening._ Absolutely maddening. You’re very obvious which just infuriates me more.” 

Leo grins. “I know. It’s a lot funnier that I’m so obvious, to be honest. But hey, if it helps, I’m just as affected as you. Whoever designed these resonant bond things was _weird_.”

“No one designed them, they just _happen._ ” Eichi throws himself down with a huff, wrapping himself up in a blanket as a last ditch effort to protect himself from Leo’s advances. “I think I prefer my manufactured one. It was so… _manageable.”_

Leo rolls over, straddling Eichi, resting his arms on Eichi’s chest, his chin on his folded arms. “But less fun, I think. Heh. Tell me I’m cute, at least.”

“You’re cute. And it makes me want to perish daily.” 

Leo leans down, then presses a long kiss to Eichi’s lips, nibbling on his bottom lip. “So, have you got a plan to keep me alive forever? You’re immortal, right?”

Eichi just smiles at that, and he frees an arm to slowly stroke his fingers through Leo’s hair. “There are plenty of ways to prolong life. Mm, which means you can be mine forever, and have that throne for as long as you like, until you’re sick of it.” 

“Not going to lie, that sounds quite nice,” Leo says with a hum, laying his head on Eichi’s chest. “You should listen to me more about...being good to people things. I can make people like you. We could rule forever and make a _good_ country.”

“The problem with that is there are too many people alive right now that dislike me, and I’d have to wipe the slate clean first, which means killing all of them. That seems troublesome and also, the opposite of what you’d like for me to do.” 

Leo scowls. “Just because people dislike you doesn’t mean you have to kill them. You can just outlive them, right? And if you keep doing good things for the country, then the dissenters are the ones people are going to hate.”

Eichi heaves a sigh. “But sometimes, what I want to do doesn’t coincide with your whole ‘good for the country’ idea, so that bothers me,” he says. “So. Mm. We’ll just have to see.” 

“That’s not a no,” Leo says, shrugging one shoulder. “And I suppose we have all of our lives to talk about it. So for now, that sounds good. I’m convincing when I need to be!”

Eichi’s eyes narrow. “If you try to pull that nonsense you did today in the middle of the Capital when I’m trying to execute someone, I’ll make you regret it.”

“Then you’d better only execute someone who deserves it,” Leo says, eyebrows raised, “or be prepared to make me regret it more than I’d regret letting someone die unjustly. You’re stuck with me, you know. You have to endure me for a _while_.”

“And you’re stuck with me, so you might as well learn to be sweet and well-behaved when the time calls for it.” Eichi rolls over, crushing him underneath his weight. “Go to sleep or I’ll kill you myself.” 

“And take you with me,” Leo reminds him sweetly, and closes his eyes.


	51. Chapter 51

Izumi arrives back at the Capital shortly after dawn, and Tsumugi isn’t with him. 

Natsume doesn’t need to hear the explanation. He doesn’t _want to_ , when none of it will make him feel better. Certain parts of his prophecy have changed, certainly, but it doesn’t seem to be changing the end result—Tsumugi dead by the Emperor’s hand. 

That’s how he finds himself on the stairs of Wataru’s tower, trembling as he can’t quite bring himself to walk into the room itself and speak to him. Instead, he sits on the stairs themselves, smoothing his dress over his legs. The idea of talking to Rei about this sits ill with him, and Shu has nothing else to add. Wataru is hardly any better, upsetting, not even close to understanding, but at least here, he can linger and think about what he _maybe_ can do when the Emperor decides to arrive at the palace’s doorstep. 

“Nightingale, O Nightingale, 

_Thou Upon a Wing,_

_Even In Your Gilded Cage_

_Can No One Make You Sing?_

_High Above the Clouded Skies,_

_Facing Towards the Storm,_

_Those Who’d Pull Apart Your Wings_

_Are Feather’d In My Scorn.”_

_“Still there, kitten? I can do another verse, if you like.”_

Wataru’s voice is soft, sad, and clear from the top of the stairs, but no bells ring when he speaks or sings.

Natsume huffs. He turns where he sits, scowling up towards the top of the stairs for a moment before he slowly climbs to his feet, making his way up. “Why are _you_ so sad?” he mutters, letting himself in. “Your bond to him, it’s almost _gone._ You don’t have to answer to him anymore, or do bad things in his name, or…any of that.” 

“Because where there was love, now there is more cold, when the rest of my world has been cold for some time,” Wataru says, eyes not wavering from the window. “And because I have tasted flight in my life, but for many months, have lived between these walls, with no company nor audience that does not despise me. Are you surprised I do not enjoy my prison, simply because it is full of birds?”

“I did think you liked birds a _lot_ ,” Natsume admits, glancing down to pick at a layer of lace that seems keen on attracting every soft, downy feather still floating about in the room. He hesitates, and quietly says, “I don’t _despise_ you. You just…made me really upset. There’s a difference, Milord.” 

“And you come to see me so rarely. Ah, nonetheless, I am pleased to see you. Forgive me, my usual tricks elude me. I have so little energy these days.” A bird flutters down to sit on Wataru’s shoulder, preening his hair.

“I stopped coming to see you because you said mean things. No one wants to sit around and hear that.” Natsume frowns at him. “But the Emperor’s coming today, and he’s going…he’s going to kill Tsumugi. I don’t know what to do.” 

“Lilies are a classic choice for mourning, I believe.”

“This is why I didn’t come to see you anymore!” Natsume snaps, taking a furious step forward and grabbing Wataru by the shirt. “That’s not something you say to someone who’s upset, who’s _hurting!_ Why are you _like this_ , you didn’t used to be, what did the Emperor _do_ to you?” 

Wataru doesn’t struggle, letting Natsume drag him around. “He opened my heart,” he says, with the ghost of a smile. “Because I loved him. And he tied a string to it, as surely as he tied those wings to my spine. And then, when he found another, he left it to rot. So perhaps my heart is rotten. And all of my dear friends despise me for that wound, isn’t that surprising?”

“So cry about it instead of being cruel to everyone else!” Natsume blinks hard, and tears immediately spill, no matter how angry he feels. “You’re _stupid_ , you know? I love you, too, and you don’t even care. I t-thought—I _still_ think that you’re what wizards _should_ be, that you’re the most a-amazing, and…” He swallows, glancing down. “But you don’t care. Eichi’s terrible, but you still only care about that.” 

For the first time in long months, Wataru feels a hard twinge of guilt. He lays his hands on Natsume’s, gripping them hard, any trace of a smile falling from his face. “What do you want me to do?” he asks, then before Natsume can spit an answer, adds, “I’m not being despondent. Do you want me to save him? I care _nothing_ for fate, I’ll gladly take his place.”

“No!” Natsume’s hands ball into fists, and he lets them thunk uselessly against Wataru’s chest. “I d-don’t want you to die, either! I want…” He trembles, shaking his head. “I don’t…I don’t know, I don’t want anyone to die, I don’t know why he even wants to kill Tsumugi so badly, can’t you talk to him?”

“I’ve tried.” Wataru’s lips crack when he tries to smile, too-tight now that they’re unused to the motion after months in the tower. “He doesn’t hear me. Or he chooses not to. I think his true bonded burns so brightly in his vision he doesn’t have the sight for anyone else.”

Natsume wavers for a moment long before giving up and lurching forward, burying his face into Wataru’s chest, clinging to him tightly, his fingers fisting into his hair. “I’ve tried to think of ways to make this stop,” he whispers. “Different plans, anything Lord Rei or Lord Shu could do, but I…can’t. Every vision I have is of Tsumugi dying. I’m…” He swallows. “I begged him to unseal me, but I’m still _useless._ All I can think of is giving myself up to the Emperor, and then, maybe…” 

“It won’t work,” Wataru says softly, startled to feel how much he likes holding Natsume, how unfamiliar that warmth feels against him. His arms go around that slender body, pulling him tightly to his chest. “I promise you, that would not work. He hates my predecessor far more than he could ever fear you, little one.”

“I…I’m too scared to even try,” Natsume softly admits, hating every word of that admission. His breath hiccups, and his fingers curl against Wataru’s back before he stops short, sniffling. “S-sorry—sorry, I didn’t mean to grab there. I’m not a coward, I’m not,” he adds, his voice wet, “but the Emperor…he’s different, everything I’ve heard about him, I can’t believe someone would do those things and now…” 

“He isn’t evil the way you’re thinking,” Wataru says, stroking Natsume’s hair. “I’ve seen evil. Ah, let me tell you a story, do you want to hear a story? It’s the story of the Demon Lord of Achei, from long before you were born.”

Natsume nods, and laces his arms around Wataru’s neck instead, huddling against his chest. “So long as it’s not a story that makes me want to feel better about what the Emperor is doing.” 

“No, no, he’s no part of this story. This is a story of the Demon Lord of Achei, who lived in a remote village of the Shadowlands.” Wataru gathers Natsume on his lap, voice lilting again, falling into a storyteller’s cadence. “Long, long ago, there lived an ancient evil. His reign was small, just a few thousand people, but Achei ruled them with an iron fist, so the story goes. His sins were many--the village lived in everlasting darkness, the clouds above Achei were red, and ash fell from a nearby volcano every day. The people had toiled for centuries in service to Lord Achei. Sometimes one would escape, and run to the larger cities, begging the other Demon Lords for help. No one ever came, for a Demon Lord’s power is sacred to them, and they never give up what they’ve achieved. They are demons, after all.

“For three hundred years, Achei kept to a tradition--at every new moon, he would take the most beautiful maiden from the village, and have her for his own. Each girl died, for the woman that can survive bearing a demon’s child is a rare one indeed. One thousand women died before one child survived. Achei, it’s said, held the baby in his arms, and became a changed man. He swore to clean the air. He promised to scrub the fields of their ash, the sky of its clouds. For ten years, the people of Achei had peace.

“Then the child died, and her mother, too. Achei went mad. The skies rained ash and blood. He ordered every child in the city brought to his palace, convinced that his daughter was not dead, but had switched places with a villager. Any parents who tried to protect their own were thrown into the volcano. Any child he decided was not his own was beheaded. Sometimes, he’d find a child he swore was his own, and kept the child overnight, forcing toys upon them. But by the morning, he was always disillusioned, and the child would die.

“This went on for nearly a month. Then he came upon a child he swore was his own, and tried to play with him. The boy was young, perhaps six or seven, and frightened, as all children are. But when Achei tried to play with him, the boy challenged him to a game. They played, and Achei won. The prize was a story, and a song. But the boy--ah, was he clever? Or was he foolish? Either way, he told a story, and left off the end, then fell asleep just at dawn. Achei looked at the boy’s sleeping face, and allowed him to live. The next night, they played again, the boy lost, and the boy again told a story, for you see, his parents, whom Achei had tossed into the volcano, had been minstrels. Was the boy clever? Perhaps so, perhaps no, but he told stories for three years, and during that time, no more children were killed.

“One day, without meaning to, the boy won the game. Achei told the boy that he’d won--he could take his freedom. But the boy--was he clever, little one? Or foolish? Either way, this boy did not take freedom. Either way, no other child died in Achei until the boy was a grown man. But by then, Achei had tired of his stories, and he banished the boy, who fled the Shadowlands. And when he did, they say, as his last trick, this boy convinced Achei that his beloved daughter was inside the volcano, and he only had to jump in to find her. And the village of Achei has blue skies and clean air. 

“And what became of the boy? Ah, well, what do you think, little one?”

Natsume curls up into a ball, tucking his legs underneath his skirts as he burrows his way into Wataru’s chest. “No one else tells a story like you do,” he softly says. “So he’s you, here now, and making me wonder why you could live through that and still watch your Emperor go so _mad_ with power.” 

“Because once you’ve spent your childhood with the Lord of Achei,” Wataru says softly, stroking Natsume’s hair, “your eyes are accustomed to darkness, and seeing a man made of light blinds you. And when he sings to you and gives you wings, and binds his own heart to yours, you may...take a few years to think that such a man is worth stopping. I am quite as weak as anyone, little one. And quite as blind. And I...wanted so badly to believe I’d found the shining palace I’d always dreamed of. It was easy to think that if I just... _followed_ him, if I _helped_ him, that eventually, everyone would see what I saw, and there would be peace, and beauty, and no ash anywhere.”

Natsume says nothing for a moment, until he turns his face back into Wataru’s chest, pulling some of that long, silvery-blue hair over his shoulder to distractedly braid it. “But that’s wrong now, and you know it,” he says. “Even if he loves you, he can’t help but be with someone else, and he’s…he’s always done terrible things.” He sniffles, his fingers trembling as he braids. “It’s, it’s not like I don’t know what you mean. Lord Rei, he frightens me, too, but I still want to believe in him. I just think the Emperor is so much worse, and I don’t want to lose you again. I don’t want you to forget me again.” 

“I won’t,” Wataru promises, and his smile starts to feel more familiar, more natural now, molding into his face like one of his favorite masks. “Looking upon you is one of my few joys in life, you know! Ah, if you’re going to bring me back from the brink of depression, you’re going to have to give me an order. On my own, I’ll do what makes the best story, in the end.”

Natsume tilts his head back to look up at him, studying Wataru’s face before he scowls, and releases his hair to lift up both hands and squish Wataru’s cheeks between them. “First, no more moping. That’s a lady’s order. Second, promise me you’ll at least _ask_ the Emperor to stop, when he comes here. Third…” He hesitates, glancing down again. “If you can, point me in the direction of how he made your wings. I’ll remake them myself, if I have to.” 

Wataru blinks, somewhat taken aback, and smiles. “A good set of orders, and even in a numerical sequence! Amazing! Ah, you do my heart such good, little one, I’ll do as you command. I’ll do anything within my power to stop Eichi from executing my predecessor. As for the wings--what do you need? I remember quite well how they were made, but my fingers lack the skill.”

“If it’s any kind of magic, I can do it,” Natsume firmly says, with far more confidence than he really should have about that sort of thing. “Then you can fly again, and not be stuck here once I convince Lord Rei to let you out.” 

“I truly hope he lets me out someday,” Wataru says wistfully, watching one of his birds flutter out the window. “Remember what I said about Demon Lords.”

“He’s not like that.” Natsume buries his face into the side of Wataru’s neck. “I’ll make him let you out today, or I’ll break all the things keeping you here myself. But…you have to be good. You’re _not_ allowed to go back with the Emperor.”

“Sweet child,” Wataru says softly, sliding his arm around Natsume’s waist. “Anyone can be like that. I’ve seen good men cause such grief, when power has changed them...but yes, yes, I won’t go back to Eichi’s service. That verse in my story has passed, and there is no repeat nor coda.”

“Lord Rei isn’t like that,” Natsume repeats, shutting his eyes as he shoves his hands back into Wataru’s hair, holding onto it. “Now _promise_ that you won’t go back to the Emperor, or I won’t believe you.” 

“Promise? No, no, little one, you want me to _swear_.” 

Wataru summons a rose from the air, then swiftly drags the thorns over his palm, letting blood drip to the floor. “I swear to you. I’ll act in your interests over his, so long as you don’t cast me aside.”

The sight of blood makes Natsume flinch, but he gingerly reaches forward, wrapping his fingers around the rose, squeezing until his own blood drips down as he stares up at Wataru. “Then I swear I won’t cast you aside,” he says. “Ever. There, now it’s _even_ , isn’t it?” 

“That’s a terrible oath to take,” Wataru whispers. “Ah, then how will I know that you truly want me around, and you aren’t just bound by it?”

“Because I already _missed you._ ” Natsume pouts up at him. “If I wanted to see you again after so long, and then you were mean to me, and I’m still coming back, that should tell you something, shouldn’t it?” 

“Stop pouting, silly thing,” Wataru murmurs, quite taken aback by the way his heart thuds. He squishes Natsume’s cheeks, then leans down and presses a kiss to his forehead, surprising even himself. “Go now, you’ll miss breakfast. Tell Lord Rei of your new delightful resolution.”

Natsume huffs at him, and slides out of his lap, neatly wiping his bloodied hand onto Wataru’s shirt. “You can have that,” he says, offering Wataru a brisk curtsy before flouncing to the door. “And I’ll tell him quite a bit. Just don’t forget what you said!” 

“Curtsy for me again when you return, and I’ll remember whatever you wish, little one!”


	52. Chapter 52

Izumi doesn’t make it past breakfast before he can’t stop himself. 

Makoto hasn’t said a single word to him. Izumi supposes he can’t blame him; even being in the same room with Makoto makes him itch, makes him restless, and he finally can’t keep his mouth shut. 

So, he sits down next to Makoto while everyone else they know argues or plays catch up, and he tries not vibrate out of his skin. If the bond is broken, shouldn’t he want _less_ of Makoto, in theory? He feels far more obsessed than he ever was before, when the bond was supposedly intact. “How are you feeling?” Izumi quietly asks. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” 

Makoto looks over at him, and nods, anxiety suffusing him, chewing slowly on his food. His eyes are haunted, but he forces a little smile, swallowing his food with a gulp. “Sorry, I was eating. Ah, thank you for the food, by the way.”

“Don’t thank me, I’m not the king,” Izumi grouses, and he leans forward in his seat. “In hindsight, I suppose we should’ve known,” he half-jokes, because he has to, or he’ll start going crazy again. “Northerners stick together.” 

“Oh?” That makes sense. Makoto’s smile is a little less guarded this time. “Very good. You’re not very hairy, you know. Most Northerners are.”

“Yeah, I know. And neither are you, I know this intimately,” Izumi deadpans. He shifts again, frustrated. Is he the only one affected? That _can’t_ be right, that can’t be how this works. “You don’t have to pretend like it wasn’t there,” he finally settles upon. “I know we weren’t exactly lovers, but that doesn’t mean I’m interested in going back on my promise to protect you.”

“Oh, from last night?” Makoto asks, taking another bite of his breadroll. “Ah, I didn’t really hear you, anyway, so don’t worry, I won’t hold you to it.”

“No, you idiot. From High Harbor. You know, you being so nonchalant about this is really starting to bother me.” 

“Um, sorry.” Makoto wracks his mind for any time he’d met this man in High Harbor, and comes up empty. “Ah, sorry, were you in another wagon, or something? I thought you rode up to meet us yesterday.”

Izumi stares back at him, his brow furrowing in frustration. “Are you fucking with me?” he finally settles upon. “That’s not cute right now, Yuukun.” 

“S-sorry,” Makoto stammers, flinching back. “Um, but that’s...my name is Makoto.”

“Yes, I know your name is Makoto, I’m calling you by the name I called you when we were children and I wasn’t allowed to play with commoners,” Izumi snaps, lurching forward to grab one of Makoto’s hands. “You remember that, don’t you? You were my only friend—I used to make you skip out on all of your kitchen duties to go play with me. You were my first kiss—I _know_ you remember.” 

Makoto frowns, and takes his hand carefully out of Izumi’s. “Um...ah, it’s been a long time since I was a child...was, um, were your parents in Lady Sena’s service?”

“Lady Sena is my _mother_ —I’m the Sena heir, how could you forget that?!” Izumi snatches Makoto’s hand back, pulling him close. “Yuukun—you remember me, don’t you?” he demands. 

Makoto tries to pull back, but Izumi is too strong, and he starts to sweat nervously. “Um, ah, sorry, I don’t. Lady Sena...had a son, but...I don’t think I ever met you before, sir, I’m sorry.”

“To hell with that, yes you did! You did more than _meet me_ , you—“

“Makoto, is everything all right?” It’s Mao, apparently only in the palace today to discuss the possibility of Keito’s release in light of Eichi arriving within the day, and he smiles tensely as he takes Makoto by the shoulders. “Izumi, calm down.” 

Izumi’s chest heaves, and his fingers tremble as he clings to Makoto’s hands. “Like hell I’ll calm down. The Emperor did something to him, he—“

“It’s a result of the bond breaking. C’mon, let him go.” 

“No! _No_ , Yuukun, he’s—I swore to keep him safe, and I fucked up, the least I can do now is—“ 

“Come here,” Mao mutters, grabbing Makoto and forcibly pulling him away, which _might_ be the wrong choice as Izumi lunges after him, knocking Mao flat onto his back. “If you pull out a dagger _this time,_ I swear to _god_ ,” he hisses through his teeth, hands up in immediate surrender. 

“He doesn’t need to.”

Ritsu lifts Izumi by the back of the neck, then slams him into the wall, yawning. “Don’t touch him, he’s mine.”

“Then tell him not to touch what’s mine!” Izumi snarls, lurching against Ritsu’s hold. “Yuukun, it’s okay—I promise, I won’t let the Emperor hurt you again, I promise—“

Mao climbs back to his feet, shaking his head. “What do you even _do_ about something like this?” he mutters, turning back to Makoto. “It’s okay, Makoto. You didn’t do anything wrong, this isn’t your fault.”

“Why doesn’t he remember me? Yuukun—Yuukun, _please_ —“ 

Makoto shuffles nervously behind Mao, avoiding Izumi’s eyes. “Why’s he calling me that?” he whispers, though not so quietly that Izumi won’t be able to hear him. “He says he knows me, does he know me?”

Ritsu lets his nails dig in, eyes darkening. “Beating him up won’t help, calm down. Maao, you know what’s going on?”

Izumi’s eyes prick with frustrated tears, and he grabs at Ritsu’s wrists, his own nails digging in. “I wasn’t going to beat him up, I just want him to _pay attention to me_ , damn it, Ritsu, let me go!”

“Yes, I know what’s going on.” Mao keeps himself as a barrier between Makoto and Izumi. “Izumi, your bond wasn’t broken evenly. They never are, when it happens.” 

“I don’t care, what the fuck’s that got to do with anything?”

Ritsu clicks his tongue sadly. “Bonds aren’t meant to be broken. It leaves a scar. Looks like it took Makoto’s memory. Looks like it took your gods-damned sanity.”

“Bond?” Makoto asks nervously. “What...?”

Mao wavers, unsure if it’s kinder to explain it further, or to better help Makoto forget. One look at Izumi, however, makes it apparent that forgetting isn’t an option. “A resonant bond,” he quietly says. “You shared one with Izumi. But it was broken…somehow. In your case, very little of the residual bond went to you, while the rest went to him—that’s why you can’t remember him.” 

“This isn’t fair!” Izumi protests, staring at Ritsu, wild-eyed. “I’ll make him remember, he _has_ to remember something.” 

“I--I can’t have had a resonant bond with him,” Makoto protests, clinging to Mao’s sleeve. “I’ve never even met him before, I think I’d remember having something so important!”

“Yeah, being around him isn’t going to help right now,” Ritsu grunts, and gets an arm around Izumi’s waist, dragging him away, out of the room. “You’re gonna need to calm down. Yeah--it’s bad, it’s really, really bad, but freaking out won’t help.”

“How can I calm down?!” Tears streak freely down Izumi’s face, and he lunges against Ritsu’s hold a few more times before giving up, going limp, trembling, clinging to him. “Ritsu—Ritsu, this isn’t fair, why can’t he remember anything? E-even if it broke unevenly or whatever, he should still remember some of me, right? What can I do to make him remember, I’ll do whatever I have to!” 

“Why?” Ritsu demands. “What if remembering you only hurts him? Would you still want him to? Knowing that there’s no fixing a severed bond?”

Izumi’s chest heaves. “Who says it has to hurt him? What if…what if it fixes everything if he remembers? I…I don’t know, maybe it will.” 

“Izumi...” Ritsu shakes his head slowly. “It’s like...ugh, let me explain. It’s like if you have two posts, and a rope stretched between them, right? And someone cuts it. Now fix the rope--but you can’t untie it from either end, or add more material.”

“Easy. Move the two posts closer together.” Izumi lunges against Ritsu’s hold again. “So let me back in there with him.” 

Ritsu stares at him for a moment, then lets go. “I mean, there’s nothing I can really do about it to stop you...you’re just gonna scare him, though.”

Izumi leaps away from him, stumbling back into the room, where Mao greets him with a dagger already pointed into his face, shoving Makoto behind himself. “No,” Mao says, as if scolding a dog to get down. “Absolutely not.” 

Izumi seems unfazed. “Yuukun, please, just let me talk to you, I swear you’ll start remembering everything.” 

“Ritsu, what the hell. Come get him!” 

“Don’t wanna, it makes me sad,” Ritsu says with a yawn, heading away. “Going to bed.”

“Um, can I go?” Makoto asks, nervous. “I was told I’d get to speak to Lord Rei soon...”

“I’ll go with you to speak to Lord Rei,” Mao grinds out, irritated beyond belief. “Back off, Izumi. You’re scaring him, if you give a damn you can see that.” 

Izumi hesitates visibly, then takes a begrudging step back, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth. “I’ll find you later, Yuukun,” he eagerly says. “Just—trust me, it’ll be fine, all right?” 

“Come on, Makoto.” Mao pulls him along, dagger still firmly in hand. “That’s enough of this.” 

“What does he want from me?” Makoto asks, following Mao, chewing his lip in worry. “Was he really my childhood friend? Ah, I feel bad if he really knows me...”

“He was,” Mao says, leading him along down the winding halls. “But it isn’t your fault that you don’t remember him. Your bond to him was cut, Makoto. Be polite to him, but don’t feel like you’re obligated to…do anything.” He hesitates, then adds, “If you want me to tell you anything about how your relationship was with him before, I will. It was my job to be unbiased for years, I can keep doing that now.” 

Makoto’s lips purse with worry, and his steps hasten to keep up with Mao. “Did I love him?” he asks, unable to keep himself from asking. “I know we had a bond, but--were we lovers? He seemed so upset...”

“I don’t know if you loved him,” Mao answers honestly. “But…what I do know is that you cared quite a bit about him. At one point, he was injured very terribly, and you snuck him out of your research facility to hide him in your assigned quarters.” His expression is wry. “And while I wouldn’t use the word ‘lovers’…I know you two slept together, at least once.” 

Makoto groans, rubbing his face with his hands, then taking off his spectacles to clean them on his shirt. “I remember, uh, sleeping with someone. But I don’t remember who it was, it’s...it’s all very blurry. This is awful, I feel terrible. Maybe Lord Rei can give my memories back?”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” Mao mutters, but bites his tongue. “Makoto, again, this isn’t your fault. I know you feel bad about this, but there’s honestly no reason to try and force yourself to remember something just because he’s unhappy. He’s like this because the bond snapped and recoiled far more into him—it’s not necessarily because he was so involved with you. The broken magic is making him like this.” 

“Oh. Then...it’s not anything I did?” Makoto sighs. “That’s a relief. I hope that guy does feel better soon, though.”

Mao opens and shuts his mouth, and shakes his head, pulling Makoto along. 

Rei’s throne room is currently occupied, but Mao pays it no mind. Rei, on his throne, flanked by Shu, looks currently _very_ tired and not entirely approving of what Natsume is saying to him.

“You _have_ to set him _free_. He promised—no, he swore to me that he’d—“ 

“Natsume,” Rei wearily says, holding up a hand. “The idea of letting Wataru run rampant right now, when the Emperor is approaching—“

“He might be able to talk to him!” Natsume insists, hands balled at his sides. “Lord Rei, please.” 

“…I’ll think about it.” Rei turns his gaze to Mao. “Oh, hello—and Makoto, what a delight that you’re in such good shape. I wanted to speak to you, about Eichi’s plans—“ 

“I’m going to go break those shields myself,” Natsume threatens, picking up his skirts to stalk from the room more quickly, his heels clicking against the floor. “You just _wait_ , you trained me, you know what I can do!” 

The door slams shut behind him, and Rei’s smile twitches. “Anyway.” 

“Hello, Lord Rei,” Makoto says with a little smile, bowing his head. “Ah, something a bit weird happened--it looks like...sorry, Mao, can you explain? I’m still not quite sure what happened.”

Mao’s jaw is tense. “He’s talking about his bond, Excellency,” he says. “Or rather, the lack thereof.” 

Rei exhales a slow breath, sitting back with his hands on his knees. “Ahh. That. My apologies, Makoto. I’m afraid there’s nothing that can be done about it. I’m glad to see it isn’t affecting you too badly, as magical scarring can be a little…”

“He’s lost all of his memories of the Sena heir,” Mao interjects. “And wants to know if there’s something to be done to remedy it.” 

“Not that I’m aware of, but it’s been some time since a case like this has become any wizards.” Rei’s eyes lid. “My apologies, again.” 

Makoto shrugs. “That’s all right. Ah, I never even knew they could snap--but weirder, I never even knew I had one! And now I can’t remember him, so it doesn’t really feel like I’m missing anything. Anyway, is there anything you need from me here in the Capital? I’m only a Dawncloak, but I’ll try to do what I can.”

Rei shakes his head, his expression unchanging. “You’re more than welcome to return to the Academy, if you like, as we’re in the process of reorganizing the research division—but I do want to know if you caught wind of anything Eichi is planning during your capture, other than, well. Apparently, Tsumugi’s execution. Did he say he wanted anything in exchange for his life?” 

Makoto shakes his head. “No, that was what me and Subaru were for. Lord Tsumugi...the Emperor just hates him. He liked to do things to him. Not...kind things. Apparently he has some plans in store for Lady Natsume, he used to say things like, ‘Oh, if you do this kind of thing, I won’t do something horrible to Natsume,’ that sort of thing.”

“I see.” Rei exhales a short breath. “Then he’s as expected still. Thank you, Makoto. You can go.” 

“That doesn’t mean we aren’t still going to—“

“We’re going to offer hostages in exchange, yes,” Rei firmly says, cutting Mao off. “Even though Eichi is clearly as unstable as he’s always been.”

A sudden, loud explosion rocks the entire palace, and Rei sighs, shutting his eyes as he flops backwards. “Oh, to be that young again…“

“You couldn’t’ve just let the Faerie free?” Mao wearily asks. “Now you’re down a tower.”

“I wanted to see how serious he was. He’s cute, that one.” 

Makoto squeaks, and ducks behind Mao. “Is it war?” he asks nervously. “Is the Emperor here already?”

“No, it’s just Natsume,” Mao says with a sigh, patting Makoto’s arm. “He let the Faerie out. Remember, Nightcloaks are rather volatile. No disrespect meant, of course, Excellency,” he adds too-sweetly.

“Well, ah, please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” Makoto says awkwardly, eyes darting around to find the source of the explosions. “Maybe I’d...be better off helping Mao with what he needs? Assuming you, uh, need something?”

“Have a nice day, Excellency,” Mao says, taking Makoto by the arm to pull him from the room. “The sooner you’re out of the Capital, the better,” he firmly says. “This is too many Nightcloaks in one place, too much potential for disaster, definitely too many birds…” 

“Birds are kind of scary,” Makoto agrees, “but not as scary as dogs? M-maybe I can go back to the Academy, I hope my research lab is still all right...”

“I’m sure it is,” Mao reassures him. “If you want—actually, no, this is happening, it’s for the best. I’ll get you a horse and an escort, and you can head out by the afternoon, back to the Academy.” He squeezes Makoto’s shoulders. “If that’s what you want. There’s no point in you staying here where it isn’t safe.” 

“Just let me know if there’s anything I need to do, and I will,” Makoto assures him. “Who’s running the Academy right now? Oh, where’s Keito?”

“The Demon King is. From here. And Keito…” Mao sighs. “Is in the dungeons, because he refused, officially, to side with Lord Rei.” 

Makoto grimaces. “Is that...one of the hostages Lord Rei was talking about? Um, not that it’s really any of my business.”

“One of them…with the other being His Excellency Tori.” Mao winces. “If _that_ doesn’t sway the Emperor, honestly, nothing will.” 

Makoto looks around, then whispers, “The fact that Lord Rei didn’t just automatically kill him means that he’s never had to spend time with him. Sorry, that’s mean, but....”

“Nope, agreed, completely agreed. _I’ve_ been bringing him better meals since he was stashed in the dungeons, even, and he’s still mean as a snake. Likes to call me a traitor, as if that’s anything new.” Mao rolls his eyes. “You would think this would experience would humble him, but no. Not in the slightest.” 

Makoto grimaces. “If it helps, I don’t think you’re a traitor! You’ve always been really nice to me. Ah, I should get out of your way, I guess. I don’t exactly have things to pack, so I guess just...show me where to stand until someone tells me where to go?”

“Considering Tori is still entirely loyal to the Emperor…then yes, I’m very much a traitor.” Mao’s smile is wry. “Whatever. C’mon, I’ll get you a horse and send you on your way.” The sooner he’s away from not only the Emperor, but the possibility of Izumi being at his throat again, the better. 

Rubble isn’t always Wataru’s favorite way to make an entrance, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t have its appeal. He steps over the discarded ruins of what was once a quite fine tower, birds resting on every part of his arms, head, and shoulders, and breathes in deeply. “Ah, haha! Amazing! Even with all the windows open, the air never tasted fresh. Go, my lovelies, I’ll meet you at the roosting tree later. Come if I’m not there by sundown.”

They fly off as if they truly understood all of that speech, and Wataru turns to Natsume, beaming. “You’re truly letting me make an impression on you--that was amazing! And very theatrical!”

Natsume coughs, waving away some of the dust, and frowning thoroughly at the fine layer of it that coats his dress from head to toe. “Lord Rei told me he’d _think_ on setting you free,” he sniffs. “Which I didn’t care for, so I told him I’d let you out _myself._ My apologies if something valuable of yours blew up, but those wards were tough.” 

“Not tough enough to stand up to the best pupil I’ve ever had,” Wataru says merrily. “Now I wish I had my old cloaks, or at least my wings. I would so love to make a grand entrance in front of Rei, and I fear I look quite shabby.”

Natsume carefully picks his way over the rubble, and takes Wataru’s hand, pulling him forward. “You can wear the cloak you gave to me,” he says, peering up at him with too-large golden eyes. “It’s in my room. I also bullied Lord Shu into showing me the magic books that the Emperor must’ve read to help create your wings. I’m already designing them, but they won’t be ready for a bit. I’m sorry.” 

“Amazing! You truly are the brightest student I’ve ever had. No doubt you’ll surpass me in no time at all, I simply cannot wait!” Wataru follows happily, but points out, “My darling boy, I can very much make my own cloak, I just wanted dramatic flair. Like so!”

Just like that, the shadows of the room leap from their corners and crannies, wrapping around Wataru, forming into a Nightcloak. “Of course, if we were to undergo any sort of magical purge, I would be left quite naked. But my nude form is also something glorious to behold!”

Natsume blinks rapidly, and reaches out, tugging at the new Nightcloak as if to make sure it’s actually solid. “That’s…so _fascinating_ ,” he breathes, his eyes alight. “Ah, but, you should still wear mine, just in case the Emperor decides to do something to your magic or something,” he grumpily says. “He’s not allowed to see you naked anymore, that’s the rule.” 

“I don’t remember that rule. Ah, but I’m sure you’re right! I do tend to neglect these sorts of rules, anyway.” Wataru smiles, and leans down, murmuring in Natsume’s ear, rumbling as low as his voice will go, “You just keep telling me who can and can’t have access to my nude body, hmm?”

Natsume’s face flushes, and on reflex, he lifts a hand and slaps Wataru right across the cheek. “Ah—sorry! Sorry! Reflex, _reflex_ , a lot of dirty old men hit on me, and—w-what kind of question was that, anyway?!” 

Wataru laughs, and a hint of bells follows the sound for the first time in months. “It was for your reaction, of course! And what a beautiful one it was!”

A huff follows that, and Natsume gingerly reaches up, touching the brilliantly red handprint left behind. “If you want a _good_ reaction, don’t say dirty things like that,” he mumbles. “Come along, I’m dressing you _properly._ ” 

Wataru follows gleefully, adding, “I prefer a good reaction, but I’ll settle for a _big_ reaction. Preferably, it will be an _amazing_ reaction!”

“This is better behavior already,” Natsume says, walking ahead of him and tossing his hair back over his shoulder. “It’s much better when you aren’t _moping,_ very good.” 

He leads Wataru straight to his bedroom and unfolds the cloak in question from where it sits at his bedside. “It’s only fitting that you have this one,” he says. “When you gave it to me, I…” He flushes, glancing aside. “I was really happy, I never wanted you to leave.” 

“And I never wanted to leave you, little one,” Wataru murmurs, tucking Natsume’s head into the breadth of his chest, before he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t take it. I gave it to you, after all. I’d feel wrong taking it back when the only place I want to see it is around your shoulders.”

“…then don’t let the Emperor do anything stupid, like _strip you_ ,” Natsume mumbles into Wataru’s chest, burying his face there promptly. “It’s way too big for me still, but I like that.” 

“Really? I charmed it so that it would become whatever size you chose.” Wataru taps under Natsume’s chin, brimming with energy now that he’s free, cheek still stinging. “Perhaps you like wearing it large?”

Natsume blinks, then feels his face get hot all over again. “Maybe I just liked it the way it was and I didn’t want to change it, that’s all,” he huffs. “You know, if you didn’t want to leave me, you shouldn’t’ve.” 

“And the Emperor would have come to see where his favorite toy had gone,” Wataru reminds him gently. “Besides, do you want me to have known you as a child, or now as an adult? Now I can take you seriously!”

Natsume makes a face. “Gross. Fair enough. I’m almost seventeen,” he says, as if that’s something to be pleased about. “There’s never been a Nightcloak as powerful as I am at this age, right?” 

Wataru beams. “I have no idea! It’s an odd system anyway, do you not think? How does one measure who’s more powerful, a conjurer or a seeker, a conflagration or a spout? Which is stronger, the ocean or the night sky? An absurd question!”

“You’re supposed to _praise_ me, and say _yes._ Lord Shu always says I’m the best, and he’s very arrogant, so it must be true.” 

“Well!” Wataru turns, takes Natsume by the shoulders, and looks into his eyes. “I have lived far, far longer than he,” he says seriously, “in many places, under many rulers. And I have never even heard of a Seer as powerful as you, little one. I am flattered to be in your presence, and humbled to be your teacher.”

Natsume fidgets, as pleased as he is vaguely disheartened. “I wish it were a better thing to be known for,” he says wearily. “I feel like the only thing it’s good for is making people _unhappy,_ or binding them to their fates.” He reaches out, hesitates, then gingerly runs his fingers down Wataru’s back. “I saw your wings before they were even there. I thought maybe I saw the ones the Emperor put on you, but maybe they were mine.” 

“It still hurts,” Wataru says, smiling. “But less when you do it than when anyone else does. What design will you use, hmm? What color? I don’t mind being dyed in your colors.”

“Ah, sorry, I won’t touch,” Natsume murmurs, pulling his hand back. “You should…maybe you should let Lord Izumi heal you completely, before I try to put new ones on. As for the design, you don’t get to know yet, it’s a surprise.” 

Wataru catches Natsume’s hand, not letting him pull away. “It hurts less when you _don’t_ touch it,” he says, though it isn’t true, and he doesn’t even know why he’s saying it.

Natsume frowns, his brow knitting. “Are you _sure?_ ” he presses, though he gingerly reaches back around, carefully splaying his fingers against Wataru’s back. “I’m sorry Lord Shu had to do this. Mmm, it’s weird, not to see you fluttering off somewhere.” 

“You only saw me with them once,” Wataru says with a laugh, eyes glinting when Natsume’s fingers drag over the still-raw edges of where he’d been flayed open. The wounds don’t heal normally, not even close, but that’s the mark of powerful magic. “Perhaps you’ve just imagined me coming to see you so many times?”

“…Maybe,” Natsume begrudgingly admits, his cheeks turning pink. “It just doesn’t seem like you, without the wings. Ah, there’s so much heat here still, you really should let someone look at this. I know they’re magic wounds, but still…” 

“I can endure them,” Wataru says gently, taking Natsume’s hand in both of his, squeezing it gently. “Perhaps it’s my penance, for doing as the Emperor bid for so long.”

The touch of Wataru’s hands around his own suddenly, _suddenly_ , and very unfairly, make something that isn’t _now_ flash before Natsume’s eyes. Those same hands, pinning his wrists above his head, splaying over his thighs, spreading them, leaving faint bruises in their wake, that curtain of shimmering, silvery-blue hair draped around them—

Natsume’s face slowly colors, deepening to a red almost as brilliant as his hair as he tries to process, and just settles for an awkward squeak for a moment. “I—u-um, yes, maybe, ah—“ 

Wataru blinks, then releases Natsume’s hands, reaching up to cup his face instead. “Did I overstep, do you think? Ah, I long to be too much to handle, but I do so hate to fluster on accident.”

If possible, Natsume’s face just goes redder, if only because the way Wataru’s hands feel on his skin mirrors _exactly_ the way it felt in the vision that has yet to entirely fade. “I—no, it’s—nothing! _Nothing_ , nothing at all, I just—um…things…weird visions, I…” 

“Ah. Those pesky visions again. You do,” Wataru teases, tapping the tip of Natsume’s nose, “look like a cat who’s had a feather tickled in front of him, when you have those. Did you know? It’s adorable, makes me want to tease you for hours.”

Natsume exhales an embarrassed, strangled sound, and pulls back, clapping his hands to his own cheeks, feeling how hot they burn underneath his own touch. “Don’t say things like _that_ ,” he bemoans. “I don’t need this right now, I have to focus, this isn’t _helpful._ ” 

Wataru pulls back, frowning. “You don’t usually pull away from my touches. Well. Very well.” He draws back into himself, the light in his eyes going chilly. “Perhaps you’re right. I should go speak to Rei. You stay here and...focus.”

“No no no no, it’s not your fault, it’s not!” Natsume hurriedly insists, lurching forward to latch onto Wataru’s arm again, all but burying himself back into his chest. His own heart thumps too-loud, and he trembles a little on his feet. “I just saw…s-something embarrassing, that’s all, and it’s…” His voice drops. “It’s hard to tell if it’s a vision or just—something I want. It gets confusing, sometimes, so I…” 

Wataru stops, his own emotions in a swirl. He gently raises a hand, stroking Natsume’s hair. “I can’t help you with what only you can see, you know. Even someone as great as I, can only see what my eyes can relay. Ah, little one...if I could take those powers from you, I would lift that burden that causes you such distress.”

Natsume huffs at that, butting his burning face against Wataru’s chest. It is, unfortunately, as solid and well-muscled as every bit of his vision likes to remind him. “I don’t need you to take them from me,” he murmurs. “I can handle it. I just hate it when they get weird. Nnn, forget it, princess carry me off to Lord Rei, I want to be there when you speak to him so I know he’s not being _bad._ ” 

“As Milady wishes.” 

Wataru scoops Natsume easily, despite a throbbing pain in his back, but that’s a constant anyway. “You don’t weigh anything at all, what aren’t they feeding you? It’s little birds that are supposed to survive on seeds, you know! Kittens are supposed to eat fat mice.”

Natsume snorts, lacing his arms around Wataru’s neck. “I eat _plenty._ Lots of meat. You know, cats eat birds, too.” 

“Ah, but don’t you think it would take a lion to catch a falcon?” Wataru asks merrily, striding into the throne room. “Rei, my dear friend! Our conversation is long overdue, is it not? Forgive my brief absence, I was quite improperly clad for a daring and _amazing_ escape!”

“I bet I could still eat you,” Natsume lowly contemplates, eyes narrowing as he pokes Wataru’s neck, then tangles his hands up into Wataru’s hair, entrenching himself there much like a cat that’s found a ball of yarn. 

Rei stares at this over laced fingers, wondering what sort of conversation he just ended up falling in the middle of. “…Understandable, I suppose,” he finally manages. “I’m glad to see that you seem well, Wataru.” 

“An illusion, but a durable one,” Wataru assures Rei with a smile, setting Natsume down on his feet. “Out of the crossfire, little one, he may want to blast me. Well, old friend! What now? Shall I be thoroughly chastised, and back to my cage? Or will you finally make use of your captive prize?”

“You’re not allowed to blast him,” Natsume swiftly says. He detaches himself from Wataru, but he doesn’t move from in front of him, glaring up at Rei. “I’ll take responsibility for him.” 

“I have no intention of raising a hand against you, Wataru. And you’ve made quick work of demolishing your cage, haven’t you, with the help of our little cat?” Rei sighs, his eyes lidding. “I suppose it comes down to—what are your plans? You know Eichi is coming. Are you going to join him? Or side with us?” 

“I don’t know if you’ll even believe me,” Wataru says with a theatrical sigh, “but I care nothing for my own self-preservation. For what it’s worth, I am...well. As long as Natsume is on your side, so am I. I’ve given him my loyalty.”

“I told you he swore to me,” Natsume insistently says, folding his arms over his chest. “Lord Rei, you _used_ to trust him. You trusted him with _me._ ” 

“Yes, I did.” After a pause, Rei lifts a hand, fluttering a weary hand. “Fine. Then your job in all of this, my friend, is to keep our Natsume safe. I won’t ask anything else of you.” _I know it can’t be easy, to go up against him now._

Wataru bows, low and effusive, and lets out a sigh of relief. “That...yes. That I can do, and gladly. Thank you, my friend. I will gleefully die before allowing any harm to come to him.”

“No, you’re not allowed to _die_ ,” Natsume firmly protests, latching onto Wataru’s hair and pulling again. “That’s not part of this!” 

“Your keeper seems to think otherwise,” Rei drawls, leaning to the side, chin in one hand. “But I’ll let you two sort that out between the two of you.” 

_ Wataru, won’t you come greet me? _

The whisper, albeit targeted towards Wataru specifically, slips through Rei’s mind as well—deliberate, undoubtedly, which makes his teeth grit and back straighten. “Remember what I asked of you,” he lowly warns, rising from his throne and sweeping his cloak firmly about himself. “And what Natsume asked of you. Meet in the courtyard, I’m going to fetch something he wants.” 


	53. Chapter 53

“It’s cold.”

“Yes, the North typically is. Unpleasant, I know, but we’re almost in for the evening.”

Mao huffs, and his breath escapes out white. It’s not as snowy as one would expect the North to be—he’s heard a _few_ stories about it in his five years of life—but it’s still cold in early fall, with frost coating every spare inch of ground. He clings to Rei’s gloved hand, his own firmly stuffed into knitted mittens as Rei leads him along from where they’ve stabled their horses for the night.

It’s not an inn they stop at, but instead, a building separate from the rest, built of grey stone—and labeled quite clearly as the _Academy Outpost._ It looks colder inside, even with flickering candlelight from one of the windows, and Mao waits skeptically, steeling himself and rubbing at his nose to make it stop dripping as Rei pulls him up the stairs and knocks on the door. 

“Don’t worry,” Rei reassures him, as if he can hear how his pulse starts thundering in his ears. “There’s no one here you have to be afraid of.”

Mao stares up at him, disbelieving, but he says nothing, and subtly shifts back, partially hiding himself behind Rei’s long legs.

“I’m going to open the door,” a firm, young man’s voice says from inside. “When I do, come in incredibly quickly as I slam the door behind you. Please do not take even one second longer than you need to, or I will freeze to death. Am I understood?”

“Spoken like another true non-Northerner,” Rei cheerfully says, but even his teeth start to chatter. “Please let us in, _briskly_.”

Keito yanks the door open, and nearly slams it shut on Rei’s companion, yanking it back at the last second, then shutting it behind both of them. Then he grabs a strip of fabric and stuffs it under the door. He wipes at his glasses, newly-fogged up, and stares at the child in horror. “What’s wrong with you, bringing a child into this weather? Hurry, get him in front of the fire, there’s tea.”

“He’s handling this far better than I am! Aren’t you?” 

Mao sneezes, and Rei looks distraught, quickly ushering him over in front of the fire. “Thaw out, then, even if this is a weak excuse for a fire—did they sent you up here not teaching you how to properly take care of yourself?” he scolds, turning towards Keito as he starts unwrapping himself from his cloak. “Typical nonsense.” 

“They sent me to ensure the safety of multiple precious documents,” Keito says dryly, though he moves fast, fetching his cloak from where it drapes over one chair, settling it around the boy’s shoulders. “Why did you bring a child? Do we need to speak privately?”

“I’m really fine,” Mao insists, but he doesn’t protest the extra layer, snuggling down into it as he curls up in front of the fire, staring around the room with wide eyes. 

“That might be best.” Rei spares a last, hesitant glance towards Mao before pressing a hand to the small of Keito’s back and giving him a light push towards the hallway. “You’ll find this to be _delightful_ , I think.” 

Keito’s heart thuds, and for once, it isn’t from light exercise. No, that’s been happening to him around this man since puberty, which is...unhelpful, since he knows full well that bloodbred can hear such things. He covers it, poorly, by folding his arms and scowling. “Go on. Delight me.”

Rei beams at him, taking Keito by the shoulders to face him properly. Keito, as per usual, looks perfectly neat with every hair and piece of clothing in place, and Rei…well, Rei just regrets lopping his hair off recently, with only a stub of a ponytail remaining. He could have hidden underneath it all in the cold; as it is, he’s swaddled in every warm piece of clothing he owns, and still shivering a bit. “His name is Mao, and he’s going to be your adorable adopted son now.” 

“I thought you said you were going to delight me, not give me an apoplexy,” Keito says, after a stunned moment. “I don’t believe I’m in the market for an adopted son, Rei. I’m very busy. And I’m barely twenty!”

“But didn’t you see how cute he is?” Rei insists, leaning in closer. “And he’s very smart. You could have an assistant, so you’ll be _less_ busy.” 

“He’s a baby!” Keito hisses, trying to keep Mao from overhearing. “Why? Why have you decided that I need a son? I--you barely know me.”

“He’s five…six…something like that, that’s not a baby.” Rei sighs, giving Keito’s shoulders a firm squeeze. “Right. Truth be told, he hasn’t anywhere to go. His parents up and left him after his sister bloomed and…your _Emperor_ decided she was better off dead. The least the Academy could do is take care of him, and I can’t trust anyone else in that place right now.”

Guilt thuds at Keito’s heart, and he turns his head, looking back at the little boy with too-large eyes, red hair falling into his face. A child tagging along hasn’t got any place in anything he’d planned for himself, but...

Where else _is_ the boy to go?

Keito sighs, and mutters, “I’m not agreeing to anything,” before walking back, kneeling down next to Mao in front of the fire. “What do you want to do with your life, child?”

Mao tilts his head at him, huddling himself further underneath Keito’s cloak. “Do you work for the Academy?” he asks instead of immediately answering. “Rei says you do. He also says you’re—“

“Now, now, don’t repeat any of that,” Rei hastily says, following after Keito to quickly add, “It wasn’t anything bad, trust me.” 

Keito scowls up at Rei. “Let me talk to him, if he’s to be my ward. Yes, I work for the Academy. I’m an Enhanced, do you know what that means?”

“You’re not a wizard, but you’re still magic. Rei says I can be like that, if I study very hard.” Mao stare doesn’t waver. “I can do that.” 

“Oh.” Keito blinks, then nods slowly. “You’ll have to work hard. This isn’t an easy life. You’ll be working with people that can do twenty times what you can, easier than you can breathe. And you’ll be serving them, because they were born above you. Do you understand that?”

Mao’s gaze flickers sideways to Rei for the briefest of moments before he looks back to Keito and nods. “I’m not nobleborn, so that’s not all that different,” he says. “Will I be able to help wizards eventually? That’s what I want to do.” 

“See? He’s a bright, good boy,” Rei insists, reaching down to gently muss Mao’s hair. “You should be honored I brought him to you.” 

“I still don’t know _why_ you brought him to me,” Keito says with a sigh, then absently reaches over, tying the long hair hanging into Mao’s hair into a tail, pinning it back onto the top of his head. “There, now you can see to study properly. Honestly, Rei, not that I’m not flattered, but wouldn’t you know more about training a child? I’ve never done it before.”

“Children are just tiny humans, they’re no different than training your teenagers that come into the Academy,” Rei says, tucking another strand of Mao’s hair out of his face. “And this one’s actually smart, so you don’t need to worry about it. I also, heh. Might have given him a little head start, you see. He’s young enough that opening up some of those magical channels all humans are born with…well, it’s much more natural and painless than when you’re all older.” 

“Rei says I’m a natural,” Mao parrots, staring back up at Keito and trying not to blink sleepily. 

“All Rei cares about is magic,” Keito grumbles, and stands, stretching out his knees. “Well, there’s only one bed, so I hope you don’t kick. Rei, you can sleep on the floor, unless you’re leaving tonight.”

“I’m sleeping in front of the fire,” Mao says very firmly and proceeds to drag Rei’s cloak off the back of a chair, making a nest out of that and Keito’s.

“What a resourceful child,” Rei hums, slinging an arm around Keito. “We can share the bed—all the better for warmth. It’s so mean of you to say I only care about magic, I care about you!” 

“Which is why you saddled me with a responsibility I neither wanted nor asked for?” Keito asks with a frown. He steps between Mao and the fire, and adds quietly, “I’ll allow you to sleep here, but starting in the morning, if you’re going to be my ward, you’ll respect my decisions. This is not an easy life, and I don’t just mean in dealing with wizards and nobles. If you don’t want to do as I say, you can leave with Rei and make your own way in the world.”

Mao blinks up at him. “Yes, Milord. The only reason I refused is because Rei said it would be, um, what’s the word—“ 

“Not important! Keito, come along, you should be cuddling me,” Rei swiftly interjects, “not scolding our son. He’s a good boy, just let him be extra warm after a long day of traveling, would you?” 

“And now he’s _our_ son?” Keito asks wearily, patting Mao’s head as he follows Rei to the bedroom. “I don’t know why you think I’d do anything like cuddle you. Get a dog.”

“Who else’s son would he be?” Rei says with a laugh, latching himself to Keito’s arm. “I’d _love_ a dog, but they seem to always allude me. Fickle cats like yourself as also lovely, however, so I can’t complain.” 

Keito’s heart thuds, and he coughs into his hand to make it stop. It won’t help, of course. It isn’t a sickness. Whatever happens to him when the Prince of the Shadowlands is around, it isn’t a physical ailment. “I don’t know why you seem to think that I’m available for you to play with.”

Immediately, Rei’s entire demeanor dissolves into something resembling a sulk. “You’re so cruel. Weren’t we friendly before I left the Academy? _Honestly_ , I’m just on hiatus until Eichi gets that stick out of his ass. Besides, you smell nice,” he sighs, pressing close to Keito’s side and nuzzling into his neck. “Especially when your heart pounds like that…” 

Keito swallows hard, and his heart doesn’t pound so much as flutter at that, knees buckling a little. Eichi had warned him several times, hadn’t he? _If you ever let that freak get you alone, he’ll try to do you,_ Eichi had said bluntly. _He’s a sex wizard, it’s all he cares about._

Abruptly, Keito drags Rei into the bedroom, then pushes him back against the door. “I’ve never been alone with you before,” he says, voice only trembling a little. “Because they said you’d eat my soul through my mouth. But if you just want to use me for the night...” His mouth is dry, his head feels fuzzy, his fingers tingle. “I won’t stop you.”

Rei blinks back at him, his brow furrowing underneath the mussed fall of his bangs. “They said I’d do… _what_ , now?” he manages, snorting out a laugh at that as he sags back against the door. “I want to eat you a bit,” he admits, reaching out a hand that catches into the collar of Keito’s shirt. “But not in the way you seem to be thinking. Ah, your blood is so _noisy_ , do try to relax a little…” 

“Everyone says it,” Keito whispers, though he can’t help himself when he leans into that hand, his breath quick, skin hot. “That you can only cast magic by having sex, and you’re like one of those bugs that behead their mate afterwards.”

Rei scoffs, even as he laces the top of Keito’s shirt. “They’re misinformed, then,” he says, his thumb dragging down the exposed skin of Keito’s throat, tracing the line of that rapidly thudding pulse that he can hear and smell so clearly. “I can cast magic however I please…but mmn, sex makes it much easier. Stronger. And if they say that I snuff out the life from my mates, they’re probably just jealous because they’ve certainly never fucked me.” 

Keito feels a shiver creep up his spine, and he nods slowly, feeling his breath come faster, faster, until he’s panting shallowly. “That...makes sense,” he manages, barely. “O-of course, if you _did_ eat them afterwards...it would make sense...to lie before...to your prey...”

“I brought you a child to look after—what use would there be in killing you?” Rei mutters distractedly, jerking Keito closer to shove a thigh between his legs as he arches off the door, finally giving into the urge to put his mouth on Keito’s neck. He sucks on the front of his throat, kisses his way to the side, and shivers at the thud of that pulse underneath his tongue when it flicks out, dragging along unmarked skin. “But,” he breathes, “you should still let me have a taste. Just a little one, I’m hungry, Keito…” 

“I don’t think I could stop you,” Keito whispers, because that’s easier than admitting that he’s _always_ thought Rei is stunning, always wanted to lie with him like this, always wanted Rei to come to his room and show him what making love is supposed to be--not awkward and odd and uncomfortable like the spare few times he’s tried it with other men, not embarrassing and boring like when he’d tried it with a woman, but something transcendent, the way he’s always imagined it should be. 

Of course, in his mind, Rei had confessed that he’d been watching Keito, had noticed him for quite a while now, was impressed with him, wanted to be close to him, had fallen in love with him, but Eichi’s always calling Keito a helpless, hopeless romantic. “Go on, then.”

The invitation sends a shiver down Rei’s spine, and he bites down, unable to help himself when Keito is so _willing._ Not that his partners usually aren’t, but this is a special case, where he didn’t have to work _up_ to this quite so strongly—and gods, that’s a relief.

The sudden, bright taste of Keito’s blood on his tongue makes him groan, and Rei’s hands drag up through Keito’s hair, dragging him closer as he swallows one heavy mouthful of blood before forcing himself to pull back, panting, lips stained, his eyes dilated and glowing in the dim light of the bedroom. “I _knew_ you’d taste like that,” he breathes, licking at his lower lip. “Bright and sweet. You’ve distracted me for awhile now, do something about it.” 

Keito flushes, his body feeling numb, lethargic, indulgent as he shivers, cock twitching. He tries to bring up his hand, but it hardly moves, and he flops back on the bed, pulse thudding oddly in his ears. “Can’t move,” he whispers. “That was...I think I might have...”

“I _barely_ took a sip,” Rei complains, tumbling after him, mouthing at Keito’s throat again, leaving little red marks wherever he sucks. His fingers drag down Keito’s chest as he straddles those lean hips, swiftly unlacing, and then splay their way lower, down to Keito’s trousers. “Shall I kiss you until you clear your head? Ah, it’s so warm in here suddenly,” he grumbles, leaning back to shed a couple of layers, until flimsy, mostly-transparent linen is the only thing covering his chest. 

Keito’s hands suddenly decide they know how to move again, if only to touch that gorgeous, sculpted chest. “Unfair,” he murmurs, eyes unfocused, fingers dragging shakily down Rei’s chest to his stomach. “You don’t exercise any more than I do, I remember.” And his own body certainly doesn’t look so lovely. But....

He arches up, leaning up for a kiss, expectant, hungry, hopeful.

Rei meets Keito half-way, catching his face in his hands, drawing him up and licking, sucking, biting at his lips until he himself pants for a full breath, and even still, refuses to stop. His tongue drags against Keito’s, filthy and slick, and his knees better settle into the bed to make the languid grind of his ass down against Keito’s cock that much easier. “I think you’re handsome,” Rei sighs against Keito’s mouth. “So shut up.” 

Keito lets out a low moan that almost sounds like a whimper, hands coming up to tangle in Rei’s wild hair. “Always thought...you were beautiful,” he whispers, but that isn’t enough, and his finger traces the jut of one cheekbone. “Like moonlight made flesh. Like an unbruised flower petal.”

Rei’s breath stutters in his chest unexpectedly, and he blinks, startled when he feels his skin heat underneath Keito’s touch. “You’re going to make _me_ blush,” he mutters, turning his head aside to kiss Keito’s palm. Then he grabs his wrist, kissing up one finger before sucking on the tip of it. “Stop that. Or don’t, actually, you can keep going, just don’t tell anyone later.” 

Keito leans up again, getting some control of his body back, kissing Rei hard. “The doors are thick in the North,” he murmurs, stripping off his tunic, even as he shivers in the chilly air, unlacing his breeches and leggings next. “I doubt the boy will hear. Ah--what do you prefer?”

“Everything,” Rei admits with a breathy laugh, getting about half-way through unlacing his own tunic before he lurches down to kiss Keito again, his teeth dragging over his lower lip as he sucks it into his mouth. “So you’re better off…mmn…just telling me what you like.” His eyes lid, amused. “You kiss like a man that wants to shove his prick in someone pretty.” 

A wave of relief courses through Keito, and he flips them over, pinning Rei down onto his back, kissing his neck, then back to his lips. “I’d love to make love to you,” he murmurs, stroking that thick black hair again. “And I’ve hated it the other way in the past, though...if it were you, I’d let you. But, mm, I want you like this, if you’ll have me.”

Rei purrs long and low in his throat as he arches up, his fingers dragging down Keito’s back, his thighs squeezing to either side of Keito’s hips. “Aren’t you lucky, then, that I’ve thought about you tossing me onto my back for awhile,” he airily says, his head lolling back to further muss his hair. He drops one hand down, fumbling for his own discarded belt and finding it eventually, ripping a pouch full of several oil vials clear off of it. “Put that cock of yours to good use, Milord. I want a reason to sweat in weather like this.”

Keito’s cock stiffens so fast he dearly misses the blood he’d given up, and he grunts, pushing Rei’s shirt up over his chest. “Haven’t you ever heard of romance?” he mutters, sliding a hand down to ghost along one pale thigh, rocking up against Rei’s body to steal another kiss. “You’re supposed to tell me how long you’ve thought I was wonderful before grabbing for my prick, you know. Otherwise it’s all so...clinical.”

A hitching groan leaves Rei’s throat, and he lurches up into each kiss, little eager, breathless noises leaving his throat. “I’ll wax poetic when you’re _in me_ ,” he groans, his fingers dragging up through Keito’s hair, then cupping his face in his hands to kiss him again. His cock twitches between his legs, distractingly hard. “I’ve wanted to snatch you out of Eichi’s delicate little hands since I spoke to you for the first time, there, how’s that?”

“Better,” Keito decides, even if the thought of Eichi nearly makes him hesitate. That happens every time he has sex, some stupid part of him insisting that he should wait for Eichi. But Eichi, he’s sure by now, is never going to fuck him. He nearly confesses instead that his first wet dream was about Rei, but no, Rei could easily use that against him later. Instead, he winds his body around Rei’s, feeling far less awkward than the first few times he’s done this, kissing Rei’s neck, reaching down to palm his cock. “I expect...quite a bit of poetry when I’m moving inside you, then.”

Rei shudders, arching up against the hand on his cock, one of his own fumbling down to grip Keito’s wrist, refusing to let him pull that touch away. “If poetry is what you want, you’ll get it,” he promises, his lips parting when Keito’s mouth presses warm and wet to his neck. “You…mnn…you looked like the kind of person that would be fun to do this with,” he sighs. “I’m glad I’m never wrong.” 

The reminder that Keito is probably one in a long, _long_ string of people isn’t a welcome one, but Keito pushes it to the side. At least he knows what he’s getting himself into, and won’t do anything stupid like fall in love _too_ much. 

He hooks his hand under one of Rei’s legs, hoisting the knee up to his chest as he fumbles with the bottles Rei had tossed his way. “You have a favorite? Or just anything?”

“What have _you_ always wanted to do?” Rei presses, languidly batting Keito’s hand away to obediently keep his leg hoisted up himself. “I mean, if you must know…I _do_ like this. Being taken care of. Being told that I’m lovely with just as lovely words, but who wouldn’t like that?” He licks his lips, watching Keito through his lashes. “I heard you were an artist. Have you drawn me?” 

The flush that suddenly dusts Keito’s cheeks speaks volumes, so it’s no good denying it. “Once or twice,” he confirms, ducking his head, then hesitantly pressing a kiss to one of Rei’s elegant feet. “You’re a very good subject. All that hair, and your proportions...they’re basically perfect.”

“Is _that_ all of me you’ve drawn?” Rei teases, wiggling his toes. “How perfect you think I am? You can tell me, I’m fun and like being in compromising positions.”

Keito hesitates, but when Rei doesn’t complain, he presses another kiss to the bottom of his foot, more lingering this time, even as he dips a few fingers into the oil. “I like imagining you in different positions,” he says softly. “Or in the starlight. I’ve sketched you in my bed before.”

“You should do it again later, now that I’m actually here.” Rei’s breath hitches, his toes curling this time, and he shifts on the bed, idly dragging a hand up to thumb over one of his nipples himself. “For accuracy. I don’t mind if you tie me into the positions you like best, either.” 

Keito takes that as a sign that Rei is getting annoyed with his slow pace, and drags a couple of slick fingers between Rei’s thighs, using his sparse knowledge to drag them over his hole. “Do...I won’t ask if you do this often, but...how slow would you like me to go?”

“Depends on if you want me to end up flipping you over and climbing on it myself,” Rei groans, flopping his head back. “I _don’t_ do it this way all that often, I’ll have you know, so you can take your time, just—just put one in me already, or I’m going to go _mad_.” 

“Greedy,” Keito grumbles, but obliges, letting one long finger slide inside, his breath catching in his throat. “Ah...that’s very...mm, I haven’t done it face to face before, but you’re...you’re so lovely, it would be a shame not to watch your face the whole time. Is that--do you like that?”

“Gods, you haven’t really _lived_ , have you,” Rei fairly whimpers, his eyes fluttering as he shivers and wriggles down deliberately, savoring that long, slick press inside. Maybe he is greedy, judging by the way his body reflexively squeezes down, already wanting _more._ “Watching someone’s face…when you’re inside of them…that’s…ah…that’s where half the magic in the whole damned world, if you ask me—“

“I’m sure it’s a bit more of a percentage if you’re a sex wizard,” Keito says wryly, but his voice isn’t nearly as dismissive as he’d intended. He’s intent, hungry, watching every movement of Rei’s body as if it’ll fix everything, as if it’ll satisfy him just to watch. He curls his finger, then takes a cue, slipping another inside. “You’re so tight, but that’s just going to make it feel so good. Don’t worry, I won’t be rough on you.”

Rei’s voice catches on a hiss of breath, making him forget words for a moment. “Gods, you could, if you wanted, I don’t care,” he mutters, a mindless shiver raking down his spine as his back arches. Riding down against Keito’s hand makes his mind shut off delightfully, dulling the _noise_ around him wherever he goes, even if it’s only for a moment, and Rei grabs for him, twisting a hand up into Keito’s hair, clinging to him as his chest heaves. “That’s…nn…that’s good, you’re so good…you’ll..you’ll see, when you fuck me, why he’s so _scared_ of us together…” 

Keito smiles, though it feels almost feral on his face, far from the gentle encouragement he’d meant to offer. He curls his fingers again, then bends his face, kissing Rei’s chest, nipping at one nipple with his teeth. “I doubt I’ll be scared of anything when I’m with you. Spread your legs, let me inside, please...” It still feels polite to ask, even when Rei is grabbing and pulling at him so insistently.

Rei barely nods, just grabs for Keito again, his chest still stinging and throbbing underneath the nip of his teeth. “Not you,” he breathes, his thighs squeezing around Keito’s waist, drawing him closer, urging him in. “Your Emperor. He’s afraid, always.” He lurches up, grabbing Keito’s face to kiss him again, his teeth sharp against his lips. “Gods,” he groans, “I don’t care. Inside me, do it, now.” 

“Don’t talk about him right now.” Part of it is self-defense--he doesn’t want to think about Eichi, doesn’t want to be reminded when he’s so intimate with someone--but part of it’s jealously selfish, too, and doesn’t want Rei thinking of anyone, let alone Eichi, when they’re together. He positions himself, sorting the angle quickly when the new position makes it something of a challenge, and finally slides inside, the head catching slightly on the rim of Rei’s hole, then suddenly sliding in deep.

The low, pleased groan that escapes past Rei’s lips breaks to a rasping, panting whine in the next moment. His nails curl into fists before they can score down Keito’s back, dropping to the bed instead as his back arches, thighs squeezing tight around Keito to draw him in, pull him in deeper when his insides already feel too-full, too-fast. 

That doesn’t stop his cock from being achingly hard against his stomach, or for his mind to zero in on Keito’s pulse, thrumming frantically, a too-fast drum that makes Rei want to taste it again. He barely resists, and his tongue drags over the tips of his fangs instead as his head falls back, panting towards the ceiling. “You feel…like you’re made to be inside me,” he groans, his lashes fluttering. Behind them, there are countless little eager dots of magic to be found and pulled and turned to whatever he likes, but Rei is uninterested, far more entertained by the way Keito’s cock feels inside of him. 

At some point, it’s impossible to tell whether the thundering of his own pulse, the delicious squeeze of Rei around him, the way Rei grabs at him, the way his skin is on fire, is because of magic, or because Rei is just so _good_ inside. “I don’t know...what you’re doing to me,” Keito groans, burying his face in Rei’s elegant neck, kissing and sucking at his pulse, hips snapping in deep. “But I want you to keep doing it, ah, you’re so tight, are you sure I’m not hurting you?”

“Yes, yes, just—f-fuck, right there—“ It’s a damned good thing for thick doors, because Rei has never been _especially_ good at keeping his voice down, especially when he has someone that moves with him so well. He reaches a hand back, clawing back to grip at the flimsy headboard for more leverage to better wriggle down, grinding himself down into Keito’s thrusts with a ragged, panting groan leaving his throat. “It’s not—ahh—magic, I swear,” he manages with a breathy laugh, grabbing for Keito’s hair with his other hand to pull him down into another kiss. Even though he says that, sweat drips from his hairline as he _feels_ that low, thrumming pulse of magic stir even more strongly within him, and containing that makes him tremble, shivering as he clenches down onto Keito’s cock.

Keito curses under his breath, hips snapping up, skin taut and tense as he thrusts into that warm, welcoming, sinfully tight heat. If this is what sex is supposed to be like, he’s either had shit partners or been shit himself until now. Every moan he forces from Rei’s mouth feels like a victory, and he drives forward for more, sucking on his neck where the pulse is close to the skin, kissing him back and tasting his mouth, driving in deep inside to hopefully make him feel just as good. One hand steals between them, questing, wrapping around Rei’s cock. “Do you like being touched here?” he asks, breathless and wild. “Ah, dumb question, but--”

Rei’s back arches, and he fumbles to grab for Keito’s hand, squeezing his wrist with trembling fingers. “Y-yes, but…but if you do, you’re gonna make this be over so fast,” he says with a ragged laugh, blinking hard at the overstimulated tears that prick at the corner of his eyes. “Or…or is that what you want? If you want to watch me come on your cock, I’ll do it, I…”

“Could you?” Keito asks, suddenly even harder, hand stilling as his hips pick up the pace, slapping gently against Rei’s ass with each thrust. He licks dry lips, eyes alight, driving in harder, watching the expressions on Rei’s face change. “Can you come just from me inside you? I want to watch your face, don’t hide from me, please--”

Keito’s cock slides inside of him so deeply, so perfectly that Rei barely recognizes the whine that escapes his throat. He doesn’t bother biting it back, though, not when Keito sounds so _desperate_ to hear more, to see the way he reacts, and he nods frantically, not even needing to _try_ when his cock already drips, twitching with every slide of Keito’s cock inside of him. “Just—ahh—k-keep fucking me like that, just like that, you’re—“ 

Rei _tries_ not to twist or turn his head away when he comes, but that’s easier said than done when it takes him by surprise. His entire body clenches down, and he clamps a hand over his own mouth to not only keep his voice down, but to keep from lunging forward and biting again when his cock spills in long, hard pulses over his stomach, leaving him trembling, his chest heaving with every twitch. When he drops his hand, his lips are slick with his own blood and saliva, tongue flicking out to lick it up when his body won’t stop shaking, little lingering tremors making his orgasm _linger._

Keito tries not to cry out, mindful of the child in the other room, but how can he keep silent through something like _this?_ He groans, burying his face in Rei’s hair, slamming in deep and fast and hard for the last few thrusts as his body gives up, convulsing in utterly wrenching pleasure, spilling as far inside Rei’s body as he can manage. Then, all at once, his body relaxes, collapsing on top of Rei, unable to move even though Rei’s leg must be pinned at an awkward angle. “Oh,” he manages, not bothering to move even if Rei’s hair is in his mouth.

Rei exhales a long, pleased sigh, his eyes lidded as he flops an arm around Keito’s sweaty back, and runs long fingers down his spine, petting him. In front of his eyes, the world appears as little bit dots of magic and their connecting strings, all ringing out different sounds when plucked with even the smallest touch, and he has to shut his eyes to will that viewpoint away, even for a moment. “This can be…a reoccurring thing. I’m insisting on it, actually.” 

“Why?” 

The word comes out as a whisper, and Keito buries his face in the pillow. “You could have anyone. I’m hardly worthy.”

“Nnn…disagree. Keito, I like you.” Rei shifts underneath him, wriggling to free his legs and properly stretch out. “I think you’re smart and witty and kind. And handsome. _And_ you just made me feel good, so that’s a plus…mm, but pull a blanket over here, it’s going to get chilly.”

Keito grabs a huge lined fur, dragging it over both of them with a grunt. “Thought you’d go for flashy people. Someone...more interesting, like Eichi.”

Rei snuggles down, clearly in bliss. “Hmm? Oh, oh no. Just being around him makes me itch. Even if he was the kindest, most wonderful person in this world, I wouldn’t lie with him. I couldn’t, without wanting to rip my own skin off.” 

Keito grimaces. “He’s not like how he seems, you know,” he says, unsure why he feels the need to defend Eichi in the stupidest ways, at the stupidest times. “He’s a very sweet person, under his public image.”

“He rubs me the wrong way. But that’s neither here nor there, it’s a species thing, first and foremost—which I’ve acknowledged, and he can’t seem to let go because _everyone_ must love him, according to him.” Rei rolls his eyes, grabbing Keito around the waist to drag him closer and nestle into his chest. “I can’t work with him. Why do you think I left?” 

“Mm, I don’t want to talk about that right now.” Keito strokes a hand down Rei’s back, reaching up the other to finger the tiny holes in his neck gently. “What about the Faerie, or whatever they’re calling that creature now? He’s...well, he seems about as outrageous as you.”

“Wataru? He’s delightful, isn’t he? A good friend. We’ve done this before, but our interests both lie elsewhere. Once was enough to realize that.” Rei nuzzles up into Keito’s neck, his eyes lidded. “You have a far lovelier sound.” 

That makes oddly pleased little prickles ripple at the base of Keito’s neck, and he smiles, stroking Rei’s hair. “For whatever it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here. Flattered, too.”

“Mm, good. Because I’m probably not leaving for awhile. You can explain that to the Academy later.” 

Keito sighs. “I should have known you’d be trouble.”


	54. Chapter 54

As a rather young Nooncloak, Tsumugi has his pick of assignments. He could take a task far and wide on the Academy’s orders, could delve into research, could explore the mysteries of the universe and travel, could go to war and fight for his country.

Instead, Tsumugi quietly opts to stay in the Academy, passing up every assignment. He doesn’t even sign on to teach the younger wizards, despite the fact that many of them find him friendly and accessible, and often wave to him in the hallways. Sometimes he sees them. More often, he’s distracted, worried by his own readings of fortune, and dedicated to his task. 

The Academy, of course, has the Library.

It’s the largest Library in all of Yumenosaki’s world, larger than any Tsumugi has ever heard of. It’s quiet, cool, dry, and clean. During his years of study, Tsumugi had spent all of his evenings in the Library, usually pressed into service to put all books back into their places. But now that he’s newly graduated, he sticks to the shadows, avoiding any of the librarians who might ask him for help, delving into text after text, relishing his quiet time reading alone.

Alone, but not lonely. That’s what most of his friends haven’t understood about the way he spends his free time. At least this way, he isn’t causing anyone grief, and no one is trying to hurt him. Besides, he has his books, and no one in the Library is going to invade his personal space.

Eichi, for his part, enjoys the library as a chance to avoid work.

Being in charge is lovely, and he certainly does love dictating. The issue is that it’s tiring, after a certain point, and a chance to unwind and enjoy time away from not only the general public, but his own wizards, and his own _assistants_ is necessary. There are a few that do love nagging him so, even when he’s exhausted and paperwork should not be any part of being an all-powerful wizard, reigning over a kingdom of magic. 

But here he is, dressed down like a commoner, sneaking around the Academy, avoiding everyone he possibly can—which is easier said than done within walls that he rarely leaves.

It isn’t his first time doing it, nor will it be his last…and there’s another familiar presence here with him, it seems. Tsumugi, a Nooncloak, always quiet and withdrawn, but never impolite. He’s odd, and not for the first time, Eichi finds himself staring at him through the bookshelves, watching Tsumugi for a long moment before he gives in to impulse, and sneaks his way around, poking a finger directly between Tsumugi’s shoulder blades. 

“You’re _always_ in here.” His eyes gleam, and he drapes himself against Tsumugi from behind, immediately destroying any semblance of personal space. “Are books really so interesting? Ah, you’re so strong, I can feel it, why do you insist on staying here?” 

Tsumugi squeaks, wheeling around, hand pressed to his chest as he laughs at himself. He doesn’t bother to back up--the Emperor obviously wants to be close to him, or he wouldn’t have advanced like that--but he sighs, self-deprecating as he smiles, shaking his head. “Ah, you gave me a fright, Eichi! Is there something I can help you find? I don’t really work here, but I know the Library very well.”

“No, no, I’m asking about _you_ ,” Eichi dismisses, taking a step closer to make sure he doesn’t let any space happen between them. “What are you hiding from? I’d have you work with me directly, you’re much more pleasant than _some_ people that I won’t mention.” 

Tsumugi blinks, then reaches up to tuck a long strand of hair behind his ears, mindful that it doesn’t bother Eichi. Looking unkempt has not served him well in the past, though he tries to remind himself that those days are over. “You have a task you want me to do? Of course, I’m at your service. Do you think I can help?”

“Mm, nothing in particular. I just like you.” Eichi reaches up, pulling one of those strands of hair back out to coil it around his finger. “I don’t feel that way about a lot of humans—not like this, not ever like this, actually…you’re special, I think, _somehow._ ” 

Tsumugi’s breath stutters, and he offers a shy little smile, ducking his head. The back of his minds reminds him that this is _scary_ , that people in positions of power are not to be trusted, but this is the Emperor, who runs the shining Academy. “Ah, if you’d like, do you want to have some tea with me?” he asks, blinking slightly up at Eichi. “Oh, and if you tell me your birthday, I’ll read your fortune in the leaves.”

Eichi’s face immediately brightens, his eyes wide. “Eh? Really? I love that sort of thing, I should’ve known you’d have a talent for it—we can go to my private chambers, I have a _very_ nice tea collection and I never get to share it.” 

“I hope I don’t disappoint you as a guest,” Tsumugi says cheerfully. “I’m sure my wit isn’t up to par with your usual guests, but I’ll try my best, I promise.” He carefully closes his book, memorizing his page number, and replaces it on the shelf, precisely in its space.

“You need to stop saying things like that—putting yourself down all the time, that kind of thing,” Eichi dismissively says, and he grabs Tsumugi by the hand, dragging him along with all the strength he possesses (which isn’t much). “It insults my taste. I don’t keep the company of lesser beings, I’ll have you know.” 

“Mm, very well! I’ll try to be better at that kind of thing,” Tsumugi says, nodding his head in a half-bow as he follows along. “The Academy is a very wonderful place to someone like me. Thank you for making it a place I can feel safe.”

“Oh, it’s going to be even better soon,” Eichi says reassuringly, switching his grip on Tsumugi’s hand to lace their fingers together. “Once everyone _accepts_ that I’m in charge. There’s too many arguments right now, you know? I’m rather sick of that Rei fellow, and him opposing me at every single turn. Infuriating, honestly. I gave up so much for this, I don’t understand why it isn’t _obvious_ that I should be the one that rules above all others.” 

Tsumugi nods gratefully, squeezing Eichi’s hand, hoping he’s doing this whole thing correctly. He hasn’t seen anyone else interacting with the Emperor like this, so he’ll have to be on his best behavior to make certain he doesn’t mess up. “Of course, if everyone could stop fighting, that would be the best. But until then, you’ve got everyone’s support, and I’m sure you’ll win!”

“This is why I like you,” Eichi sighs happily, “you actually seem to understand. Ahh, you’re such a good boy, I just…”

He drags Tsumugi to the sky bridge attaching the Academy proper to his own, separate tower, and the heavy door shuts behind them with a resounding _thud._ “I don’t feel these kinds of things for humans,” he excitedly says, pressing close again as he backs Tsumugi up against the closed door. “That’s how I _know_ you have to be special—you’re different, aren’t you? To me, especially. Have you ever heard of things called resonant bonds?” 

“I haven’t,” Tsumugi says truthfully, with a little smile. Eichi is such a sweet person, under his threatening persona. The door at his back is firm, making him feel secure, and he reaches up to touch the soft skin of Eichi’s cheek, a gentle brush. “But I think you’re very wonderful, if that’s part of it? I really look up to you.”

“It’s more than that, _listen_ ,” Eichi insistently says, even as he grabs for Tsumugi’s hand, holding it against his cheek. “It’s a connection between two people—one of them _has_ to be a wizard—and they’re…they’re very rare. I’ve read about them, and they seem so lovely. It’s like a whole other level of connection, beyond even lovers. And they have to be cultivated, sometimes it’s telepathy, or just heightened awareness of the other person, but we’re both wizards, so it could be so much more than that.” 

Tsumugi blinks. He’s fairly sure he doesn’t feel any of that, but...well, Eichi looks _very_ excited, and he has a lovely smile. “Is there anything I can do to hasten it along?” he asks gently, stroking his thumb over Eichi’s pale cheek. “Ah, it doesn’t feel real that I’m here with you, you’re like a god compared to someone like me.”

“Nooo, don’t say that, I’m fun,” Eichi protests, butting his head into Tsumugi’s hand before he turns his head, pressing a kiss to the inside of Tsumugi’s palm. “You should kiss me. Everyone else I’ve asked has been too scared to, that’s not even fair.”

That’s _not_ fair. Tsumugi firms up his resolve, and the part of him that’s still afraid to touch anyone for fear that his bad fortune is contagious. Then he leans forward and up onto his toes slightly, meeting Eichi’s lips in a soft kiss that sends little sparks of electricity through him. He pulls away after a moment, uncertain. “Was that...did you like that? I did.”

Eichi’s breath catches in his throat, and he lurches forward, grabbing Tsumugi’s shirt to haul him closer. “Yes. Do it again,” he demands, his cheeks flushing. “The way we’ve all seen that filthy demon kiss his lovers. I don’t want him to do it to me, but I want to know what it feels like.” 

It would be a bald-faced lie to say that Tsumugi hasn’t watched Rei stick his tongue down someone’s throat on more than one occasion. It would be more of one to pretend that he hasn’t felt that himself, hasn’t been backed against a wall in a dark room by the prince of demons, hasn’t had those sinful lips brush over his neck, felt him hot and hard between his thighs. It had been just once, several months ago, but the memory is strong, and it’s easy to surge forward, catching Eichi’s mouth again, slipping his tongue between those soft lips, grabbing him by the waist and yanking him close. He even turns them, pushing Eichi back against the door, trying to be _useful_.

_Oh_ , that’s very nice, even if it’s a surprise that he’s suddenly the one pushed up against the door with Tsumugi—who is, ah, well, far more solid than Eichi expected him to be. His breath escapes him in a little rush of a gasp, and Eichi’s hands immediately release Tsumugi’s shirt to grab for his hair instead, burying his fingers into the thick curls of it when that tongue slips past his lips. He shivers, and the low, rumbling groan that escapes his throat preludes his lurch forward to kiss Tsumugi back, needing a better, more _thorough_ taste of Tsumugi’s mouth. 

Tsumugi sucks softly on Eichi’s tongue, then his lower lip, pulling back, eyelashes fluttering. “Was that good?” he asks, somewhat anxious. “Mm, you have very nice hands, but I’m afraid I might need to brush my teeth or something...”

“You’re not allowed to _stop_ ,” Eichi mutters huffily, leaning forward to kiss Tsumugi again. “Obviously I liked it. You could taste more like tea, I’ll agree with that, but you’re not _disagreeable_ and of _course_ I have nice hands. You’re much stronger than you look.”

“Sorry,” Tsumugi apologizes automatically, something flickering in the depths of his eyes. He squares his shoulders, then kisses Eichi’s cheek, then his lips again, drawing him into another deep kiss, thinking back to what Rei had done to him. If Eichi wants to feel that...he steps forward, sliding one thigh up between Eichi’s, pressing hard.

Eichi’s breath hiccups, his hands tightening in Tsumugi’s hair. Something equal parts startled and _pleased_ makes his blood thrum faster, and he surges forward, pressing back against that touch, his mouth parting far faster against Tsumugi’s as he eagerly sucks on his tongue, mirroring what Tsumugi had done to him only moments before. “That..mmn…yes, good,” he mutters, a hot breath between them enough to make Tsumugi’s glasses fog up. “You…I knew I was right about you.” 

“And you’re a very fast learner,” Tsumugi says with a smile, though he takes off his spectacles, wiping them on the bottom of his shirt. “Ah, perhaps we should move this to the bed? I’m sure I’ll fall over and embarrass us both if we keep standing.”

“…And you’re even more handsome without those glasses,” Eichi muses aloud, his brow furrowing a bit over it even as he trails after Tsumugi, uninterested in surrendering his newfound toy. “Does it feel…mm, a little bit like static electricity? That little shock, you know? It’s nice, isn’t it?” 

“I thought that was just your presence,” Tsumugi says honestly, sitting on the edge of the bed, reaching out a hand to cup Eichi’s cheek again. “I usually feel that spark when you’re around, Eichi. But I’m impressed by you, so I don’t think it’s that strange.”

“That’s what I was talking about before,” Eichi breathes, promptly climbing into Tsumugi’s lap, hands cupping his face. “That _spark._ That…that little connection. That’s what I want, more than anything—otherwise, what was the point of coming to this world?” 

“I’ve never known,” Tsumugi says quietly, truthfully. His arms encircle Eichi’s waist, the way he seems to want, and he draws him close, hoping he isn’t overstepping. “But I do like the way it feels when I’m close to you. Is that what you mean?”

“Yes—yes, something like that, it’s a start,” Eichi says, immediately curling closer, looping his arms around Tsumugi’s neck. “Some of the older wizards here, they like to scoff at me about this,” he sniffs. “Which I think is very rude. I’m their _Emperor._ What do they know? They’re just jealous that they can’t find a connection like you and I have. Ah, not that I’ve _told_ anyone about you yet, I wasn’t sure, but now…” 

“How...” Tsumugi flushes, laying his hands on Eichi’s chest, feeling his heartbeat. It’s unusual, firm and almost proud, but not in any rhythm Tsumugi can discern. “How does the magic look, to you? I’ve heard some people describe it as colors or music...”

“Like wings.”

Eichi’s eyes lid, and his fingers slowly stroke down the back of Tsumugi’s neck. “And the stronger a person is…the more well-formed they are, down to individual feathers sometimes, things like that. Yours…” His fingers drag down Tsumugi’s back to his shoulder blades. “Yours are so beautiful, it makes me want to rip them off so I can have them for myself.” 

“Oh. Thank you,” Tsumugi says honestly, eyes lighting at that. “I’m really flattered that someone like you thinks so highly of me.” He turns, as if he could see them himself, though that isn’t how it works. “I wish I could see what you see. It sounds like a beautiful world.”

“Sometimes. Mmn, but sometimes, it’s frustrating, to see people that don’t know how splendid their talent is…or vice versa, when people think they’re so much greater than they really are. You’re the former,” Eichi adds, burying his face down into Tsumugi’s hair with a deep inhale. “Gods, aren’t you the former. You’re so frustrating, locking yourself away in that library for hours and hours…” 

Tsumugi’s cheeks flush, and he ducks his head, a little embarrassed smile playing around his lips. “For someone like you to say that...I really don’t think I deserve it,” he says honestly. “I haven’t done any great deeds--not like you, or so many others. You--you won the Greatwar, almost single-handedly! I learned about you in school.”

“Oh, I’m incredible, that’s correct,” Eichi humbly agrees, still petting Tsumugi’s hair. “But that doesn’t mean your power is any less…interesting. Because it is, or we wouldn’t be talking right now. I’ve never met anyone who felt so much like…like _nothing_ before, but I mean that in the best of ways, because I know, I can see it with my own eyes, that there’s so much there that you deliberately keep under wraps…” He tilts his head, nuzzling down to Tsumugi’s ear, his teeth gently catching against the lobe of it. “You should show it to me. Only me.” 

Tsumugi’s breath stutters, and he hears his chest pound, hands coming to rest on Eichi’s thighs. “I’m...not sure how to show you,” he says uncertainly. “My Academy performance is on record, my exams...I didn’t do _too_ badly, but I don’t...particularly like drawing attention to myself...”

“I don’t care about your exams.” Eichi’s fingers twist up tighter into Tsumugi’s hair, pulling his head back to make him look up at him. “I want _you_. Every part of you—those parts that you hide from everyone because you think everyone will hate you…those should be mine. And every part of me that you want—you can have that in return.” 

“Ah, isn’t that...” _Too much to give to one person?_ But obviously Eichi doesn’t think it’s too much, so Tsumugi just smiles. It’s not the first time someone has wanted to own him. It _is_ the first time someone has offered themselves in return...and that’s love, isn’t it? “A web,” he says softly, leaning in close, resting his forehead against Eichi’s. “I see it all--connections, between people, sometimes between places and things. How we’re all bound to each other. How we...care for each other.”

“Fascinating,” Eichi murmurs, his eyes lidding as his fingers loosen, returning to stroking Tsumugi’s hair again. “It’s the true feelings of people, I’m assuming? Ahh…that could be very interesting…and useful, if used correctly, don’t you think?” 

“It...” Tsumugi hesitates, but Eichi had said he wants all of him, hadn’t he? “It’s been useful, and horrifying, in the past,” he admits. “Everything got easier when I came to the Academy.”

“It’s much safer here, and much easier to control every part of your magic,” Eichi soothingly agrees, shifting in Tsumugi’s lap to stay close to him. “Mm, if it’s a web like that…what does it look like between you and I?” 

Tsumugi unfocuses his eyes, letting them drift into the over-world, the place where magic reads more strongly than anything. “Shining and golden,” he whispers. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Then it _is_ as I said, that’s our bond,” Eichi insists, his eyes alight as he draws back enough to look into Tsumugi’s own. “We’re meant to be, you don’t need to tell my fortune to know that—that’s why I’ve been so _drawn_ to you. That’s why you’re mine,” he sighs, taking Tsumugi’s face in his hands and tilting his head up for another kiss. “And I yours, if you promise to keep giving yourself to me.” 

“You can have anything you want,” Tsumugi says honestly, leaning in, hungry for a kiss now that he knows what Eichi wants from him. It sounds insane, that all Eichi wants is closeness, when that’s something Tsumugi doesn’t at all mind giving him. He strokes Eichi’s hair, smiling. “I’ll give you all of me.”


	55. Chapter 55

“I can’t believe it. You’re _actually_ leaving.” 

It’s Eichi, of course, who stands within the aisle-way of the Academy stables, looking as pale and wan as he always does, no matter that his attendants try to swaddle him with every layer imaginable even in fair weather. Rei doesn’t offer him a glance beyond the tiniest passing one as he saddles his horse, his teeth clenched, jaw firm. 

“Considering,” he lowly says, “you’ve taken it upon yourself to either enslave every friend I have, or silence those that would stand next to me, you haven’t given me much of a choice. Have you?”

“Your little brother remains,” Eichi points out, his tone even, unconcerned, and he folds his arms across his chest. “Will you not hold out for him at least?”

“Ritsu has his own mind.”

“Certainly. And a lovely mind it is—with a lovely mouth, too, and lovely hands, but _especially_ that mouth—“ 

Wood splinters off from the stall door, and Rei’s horse shifts unhappily, snorting as it backs away in fear. Eichi’s eyes lid, a smile on his lips, but his smugness only lasts for a moment when his body reacts—suddenly, violently—to the sharp spike in Rei’s magic, and a cough that he’s tried to repress wells up, leaving him bent over, blood staining his white leather gloves.

“Maybe,” Rei coldly says, yanking his horse’s head around as he leads it from the stall, “if you didn’t spend all of your time meddling with magic that has no rhyme or reason, you wouldn’t be so weak.” 

“Wataru had no protests,” Eichi breathes, eyes alight as he lifts his head. “I’ve mapped out those wings perfectly—and soon, everyone will be able to see them, and how glorious they are. Nothing like those twisted things you and your shitty little brat of a brother have—“

“I hope you’re cursed to rot here, in this prison you’ve made, alone and forgotten,” Rei snaps, hauling himself up onto his horse’s back. 

“ _That’s_ the curse you have for me?” Eichi laughs, gingerly wiping away a bit more blood from his lips. “That I die alone and without friends? How _adorable._ ” 

“Keep destroying every single ideal that we’ve built here, and it’ll happen far sooner than you think.” 

Rei leaves, and Eichi irritably pushes him from his mind. 

It’s scarcely a month later that Eichi finds himself faced with something…troublesome. By the new rules and regulations of the Academy, freshly bloomed wizards are handled explicitly by the Academy without the input of the crown—but this is an odd case, an outlier, especially when it’s a frantic missive from the king’s messengers that wakes him in the middle of the night, forcing him to be clothed and shivering in snowy weather. 

A girl within the capital has bloomed, and she’s _very_ young. 

Abnormally so, for a wizard to bloom, but even Eichi doesn’t realize exactly how troublesome that is until arriving at the scene, feeling the countless layers of shields that the Collectors have placed upon her just to keep her magic contained—and even then, only barely, even as the little girl lies unconscious on the ground.

“Honestly,” he mutters, tugging his heavy, fur-lined cloak about himself, the fluffy white of it nearly blending in with his hair. “Why hasn’t she been contained yet?” 

“None of the usual methods are working, Excellency,” a wizard wearily explains. “She’s…she’s only three, she can’t understand.”

“And you’ve tried everything?”

“Everything.” 

“Then there’s nothing to be done, is there? Kill her.” 

There’s palpable hesitation, and Eichi’s lips purse. “Do I need to do it myself? Tsumugi,” he calls, turning back to his entourage. “You’re sensible. There’s nothing else that could be done here, is there?” 

Tsumugi looks up, trying to contain his horror, and then down at the little girl. He walks forward, resting his hand on the little girl’s forehead. He closes his eyes, breathes in, and tenses unhappily when wave after wave of magic crashes against every shield he has, a painful, emotional riot of a storm, all emanating from someone so small. “I...maybe I can contain her,” he offers, chewing on his lower lip. “But if Rei were here, he surely could. Ah, she could be a Nightcloak someday, she’s so strong--”

“Well, Rei isn’t here, is he?” Eichi snaps, ruffling visibly. “If he cared as much about this sort of thing as he always liked to _claim_ he did, maybe he would’ve stuck around, hmm? I’m not letting you try to contain her, you’ll just injure yourself, that’s as clear as day. Step back.” 

“Eichi, no, I can do this,” Tsumugi protests, even as one of Eichi’s guards tries to guide him to the side. Horrified, he looks up. “Surely you won’t--she’s just a little girl, call for Rei, she doesn’t need to die!”

“ _You_ call for him, see if he comes,” Eichi shortly retorts, pulling off one of his gloves. “She’s suffering like this. She could kill countless people within the capital. Do _you_ want to be responsible for that, Tsumugi?” 

Terrified, Tsumugi sends an urgent pulse along the faint line he shares with Rei. It probably won’t work. He has one of those lines with everyone he’s ever met, a stronger one with those that have affected him strongly, but rarely has he ever been able to use them for communication. He rarely can with Eichi either, no matter how much Eichi tries to force him into it. He struggles now, but Eichi’s guard holds him fast, and he isn’t a physically powerful man. “Eichi,” he says, trying to make his voice as strong as he can, “don’t hurt her. Let us try! Let us at least keep her unconscious until we can reach Rei, I’ll take all the responsibility myself!”

Eichi snorts. “And have you imprisoned or executed for something that could be concluded so easily? I think not. You’re important.” He turns, leaning over to pat Tsumugi’s cheek. “Remember, you’re mine, and I’m not letting anyone take you from me.” 

He turns away again, stepping towards the girl and stops next to her. To his eyes, the magic pours from her in long, sweeping rays of light, vaguely resembling the long tendrils of wings, but malformed and constantly changing. He crouches down, rests a hand to her head, and in one fell swoop, all of that magic seems to retract, dragging itself back into her tiny body, and she reacts in an instant, her eyes rolling back, entire body seizing up before she trembles once, and then goes still. 

“Well,” Eichi exhales, rising to his feet again and pulling his gloves back on. The air around them seems to settle in her stillness. “That’s that. Make sure she’s brought to the Academy. A child blooming this young…that’s something that needs to be better investigated.” 

Tsumugi sags down to the ground, Eichi’s guards releasing him to fall to his knees, the dirt soiling his cloak. It feels like he used to, back before he’d bloomed, when he’d been powerless. One tear slides down his cheek, but that’s cold, too, as cold as the little girl’s lifeless body.

Movement catches his eye, and Tsumugi stands suddenly, eyes wide behind his spectacles. “There’s--there’s another child,” he croaks, eyes fixed on the horror-stricken face hiding in the shadows.

“Let his mother deal with him, then,” Eichi dismisses, stepping back over. “Come along, it’s cold and I want to go home. I dislike being called out in the middle of the night for such things.” 

For the first time in years, Tsumugi ignores the Emperor, stumbling on legs that feel numb, walking towards the little boy and kneeling in front of him. “Where are your parents, child?” he asks softly, hoping the boy won’t be too afraid to talk to him. He’d have been frightened himself--but then again, his own childhood helps to prove that children can be resilient to all sorts of horrors.

The little boy hesitates, staring at him with wide eyes through hair the same brilliant red color as the dead little girl’s. “Gone,” he finally whispers. “After the wizards came.” 

“Tsumugi!” Eichi snaps. “I said come along! He’s not a wizard, is he? Leave him!” 

Rei won’t come in time. Tsumugi can’t trust that. He looks over his shoulder at Eichi, then holds out his hand. “Do you want to come with me? I live in a big quiet place with a lot of books, and plenty of food, with a dry warm bed.” It’s all he would have wanted, at that age.

The boy hesitates again, not reaching out to take Tsumugi’s hand. “Is…is he going to be there?” He doesn’t look at Eichi, but it’s as clear as day who he’s talking about.

“ _Honestly._ ” Eichi stalks over, shrugging off his guards. “Tsumugi, if you bring him into the Academy, I’ll toss him right back out,” he snaps. “He’s a citizen under the crown, and not the Academy’s responsibility. Bringing him in would be a breach of our agreements, let the Capital handle him.”

“Send someone to take him as a ward of the Crown,” Tsumugi says softly, “or I’ll bring him to be raised by the Enhanced.” He shifts, standing between Eichi and the little boy, meeting Eichi’s eyes. “I won’t leave him here.” _Rei, if you can hear me, please, there’s a child that sorely needs you._

Eichi’s lips purse in clear irritation. “First of all, how dare you disobey me. Second of all, like hell you won’t leave him. You’re so— _ugh_ , boy, are you nobleborn?” The boy shakes his head rapidly. “Then the crown will put him in an orphanage, and that’ll be the end of it. Come _along_ , Tsumugi, I don’t have time for this and I’m cold.” 

Finally, there’s a faint touch back against Tsumugi’s mind. _In the capital? I can be there in a day._

Tsumugi turns his back on Eichi, all of his regrets gone cold. “My friend,” he says, trying to sound friendly when he feels so ill inside, “is a very fun and kind person, and he wants to come take you somewhere safe and happy. Now, you can come with me now, but that other man will be there. Or you can find a place to hide--make yourself very small, and I promise, a very good man will find you in less than a day, and take you somewhere good.” _Please hurry, he’s all on his own,_ he thinks desperately. Of course Rei can hear him, when no one else ever has been able to. There’s an irony in that, he thinks.

I’ll be there as fast as I can. Or, if you’d like to meet me in High Harbor, you’re welcome to bring him.

_The boy stares back at him for a moment long before he nods, pulls his own cloak tightly about himself, and takes a step back. “I’ll go hide,” he quietly says. “I don’t want to go with him.”_

“Are you talking to that demon right now?” Eichi flatly asks, stepping forward to grab Tsumugi by the arm. “You know how I feel about that. This isn’t like you, Tsumugi, stop it. It isn’t the first time there have been siblings left behind, for goodness sake!”

With a sad smile, Tsumugi pulls his arm out of Eichi’s hand, then nods to him, pats the boy on the head, and walks off towards the Academy. Rei is good at finding people that don’t want to be found. The best thing he can do for the boy is distance himself. 

At least, until that night, when he leaves Eichi sleeping in bed, picks the boy up from where he’d hidden himself (not well enough, Tsumugi could teach him a few things about how to hide), and sets off for High Harbor.

It’s another several hours before he meets Rei on the road, riding at night, with a wave. “This is my friend,” he tells the boy, who he’s learned is named Mao. “He’s very interesting, but he’d never hurt anyone, especially not a child.”

Mao stares back at Rei with those enormous eyes of his, and promptly burrows further back into Tsumugi’s cloak. “His eyes glow. Like a cat’s.” 

“Ah, sorry, they do that at night,” Rei apologizes, pulling his horse around alongside Tsumugi’s. “It doesn’t mean anything, though, I promise.” He offers Tsumugi up a wry smile. “I’m glad to see you again, my friend. A troublesome time with the Emperor these days, I hear?” 

“I doubt he’ll be pleasant tomorrow,” Tsumugi admits. “But he’s quite preoccupied lately in any case. Ah, it’s a shame that I didn’t leave with you when I had the chance, really. This is Mao. Mao, this is Rei.”

“That’s a cute name. Of no particular house, I assume?” 

Mao’s head shakes, but he’s still obviously a bit unnerved by him, and Rei lets it be, glancing away from him for now. “Well, to hell with the Emperor, then,” he simply says. “If he’s preoccupied and you’re already here, just come with me the rest of the way to High Harbor and stay there.” 

Tsumugi smiles faintly, then looks behind him, where most of his belongings rest in an old sack. “I may have been hoping you’d say that.”

“Oh, _good_ , your senses have finally come back to you!” Rei snorts, leaning over to clap a hand against Tsumugi’s back. “Luckily, I’m in need of someone to manage my estate. You’ll fit the bill splendidly. Underneath His Excellency’s new laws, wizards can’t own property—ridiculous, if you ask me, but I’m too obviously a wizard and you…well, you aren’t, thank the gods.” 

Tsumugi blinks, then nods in comprehension, closing his eyes and making himself unnoticed. “I didn’t realize you knew about that trick of mine,” he says softly. “Did I do it when you were around, or something?”

“I asked around.” Rei’s lips twitch. “Wataru might be sharing the Emperor’s bed now, but he didn’t in the past.” 

“Ah. He was the one who found me as a child, did I ever tell you that?” Tsumugi turns to look behind him, back towards the Academy, but only once.

“No. But I’m not surprised. He’s a good man, but a complete and utter fool in love.” Rei heaves a sigh, shutting his eyes as he leans back in the saddle. “I’m sorry, about how he treated you. I wish I had been able to convince you to leave before now.” 

“There’s little logic that can be spoken to fools in love,” Tsumugi says softly. “Wataru isn’t the only one.”

“I’m only going to say one more thing about it,” Rei begins, “and that’s going to be the end of that chapter of your life. All right?” 

“Ah, you can say as much as you like,” Tsumugi says, with an apologetic little shrug. “I won’t stop you, and I’m sure you have a great deal to say about Eichi.”

“No no, it’s just one thing. And it’s that if you want to be bossed around by someone attractive, there are plenty of professional services for that. Consider that the next time you have that urge.” 

Tsumugi blinks. “That sounds expensive, doesn’t it? Do you know anyone who’s good at it?”

“Yes, and yes. Not like price matters—you’re about to be a lord. A very wealthy one. The wealthiest in all of High Harbor, in fact.” Rei smiles at him, batting his eyelashes. “And all you have to do is sit pretty for me as a nobleman. Think you can do that?”

“You need me to pretend to be a nobleman?” Tsumugi casts his mind back to the noblemen he’s known, and the tiniest tremor runs through him, though he masks that quickly. “I can probably do that, as long as we aren’t talking to too many people that would know the truth from the lie.”

“You can be a recluse for all I care. The family I purchased the estate from—we go a long way back, so they’re in on the whole plot,” Rei says with a flutter of a hand. “And the son of the captain of High Harbor’s guard…well, our dear friend Kanata has taken a liking to the little boy, so protect wizards they all will. It’s a pleasant place, but you’ll still need to hide yourself from Eichi at all costs. I’ll take care of the glamor charms, you focus on being…invisible, magically.” 

“Not a problem.” And it isn’t. Unless.... “You should know that Wataru can sense me, even when I’m locked down. At least, he could when I was a child. But apart from him, I don’t think there’s anyone who can. I’ve gotten better at hiding since then, though.”

“I’ll deal with Wataru.” Rei squeezes Tsumugi’s shoulder. “Trust me. Not only will he agree to all of this, but I guarantee…he’ll be too preoccupied to think of anything else, now that you’re gone.” He pauses, glancing to the boy now passed out, asleep against Tsumugi’s chest courtesy of the steady, lulling rock of the horse’s walking. “You must have been very upset to contact me about him. Might I ask what happened? He seems like a normal human boy…well, albeit one with a spark of magical talent, but…” 

“Eichi murdered his sister.” The words come out quiet, but Tsumugi’s mouth tightens at the corners. “In front of him. She...bloomed too young. Too strong. I told him--I _told_ him, Rei, that I’d help her, that you would, but it was like...like her entire life was just an inconvenience to him. I never thought he was that cold.”

Rei falls silent for a moment, staring out into the road ahead of them. “I see,” he finally says, exhaling a long breath. “Yes, unfortunately, that sounds like him.” 

“I didn’t know. That...sounds stupid, doesn’t it? That I could not know?” Tsumugi shakes his head, irritated at himself. “But it’s true. I thought...that under his facade, he was a decent person. I thought that when it came down to a real choice, he’d be on the right side. I almost can’t believe how wrong, how stupid I was. Ah, in my defense, it’s not like he acts like that with...anyone else.”

“He doesn’t understand how to be a decent person. That’s not your fault.” Rei’s eyes lid. “He’s never understood, because he’s not _human_ , no part of him is, no matter the body that he inhabits. He doesn’t have a moral compass of any sort, not like you and I, and while he can mimic certain things, he’ll never understand why they’re good or bad. It’s all cost-benefit. Isn’t that terrifying?” 

“I think you’re wrong,” Tsumugi says softly, head bowed over the child, one arm around him to hold the reins. “I’ve met...monsters. Who didn’t care what they did or who they hurt. I’ve seen them, I know how terrible humanity can get. Eichi isn’t like that either.”

“I didn’t say he was a completely bad person. I said he doesn’t understand the difference, which is more terrifying, if you ask me. You can tell him all day why killing that child was wrong, but he will understand only his own reasoning…because his own opinion matters more.” Rei’s eyebrows raise. “Tell me you haven’t experienced that first hand from him.” 

Tsumugi opens his mouth to object, but closes it again. It’s too easy to think back over his few years at Eichi’s side, about every decision of his that Eichi had dismissed, of their few arguments, all of which had ended in Tsumugi apologizing, even when he’s sure he’d been right. “I don’t think I’m meant to be with anyone,” he admits. “If I can’t even see that much...”

“It isn’t your fault,” Rei firmly repeats. “He’s just like that. You’ll find someone else even more beautiful—younger, gods willing—and certainly not as much of a sociopath. Ah, I said I would only say one thing about it, but I’m afraid I said far too much, didn’t I. My apologies.” 

Tsumugi waves a hand. “No need, I don’t mind being told off. Perhaps if I’d listened to you earlier, I might...I don’t know. Have been able to save that little girl, somehow.”

“There’s no use thinking about that,” Rei quietly says. “You’re doing right by her, taking her brother like this. I’ll make sure he’s taken care of.” He pauses, thinking. “I have a friend that would be able to help a boy with a naturally enhanced ability, I think. He’ll certainly want for nothing, if he has the capabilities I think he will.” 

Tsumugi nods. “I’m grateful. I knew you’d know what to do. I just...I hope I’ll have the opportunity to do more. Because if this is how he makes decisions...I’m not sure I’ll rest until he isn’t in control any longer.”

“That’s the spirit,” Rei says grimly, offering up a wry smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll be awake together. I can’t promise it’ll happen overnight, but in due time…I’ll have the Academy as my own, and no more little girls will die just because it was past the Emperor’s goddamn bedtime.” 

“That sounds like a nice dream,” Tsumugi admits. “I don’t know how useful I can be, but...consider my allegiance yours, if that’s of any use to you. I’ve always liked you, Rei.”

“It’s of a great use,” Rei reassures him. “And I’ve always liked you, Tsumugi. Oh, this is the _proper_ start to a revolution, I do like that.” 

Tsumugi shifts, holding the lonely child closer, riding into the night air. “If you say so, Rei. Then I’m happy.”


	56. Chapter 56

The dungeons are, at least, clean and dry, which is more than Mao can say to some of the things he’s seen within the capital walls. 

Lantern in hand, he makes his way down the winding stairs, and hangs the light on the wall once he reaches the bottom, illuminating the room. Tori is in a separate chamber, insulated thoroughly by layers and layers of magic, but Keito—Keito is housed like any normal human prisoner, albeit perhaps more comfortably, courtesy of a gentle bit of favoritism from their Demon King. 

“Sir.” Mao exhales a soft breath, and pulls the keys from his belt. “If you’re awake, I’ve been sent to fetch you.” 

Keito opens his eyes, then stands as he’s bidden, dressing methodically. “Very well. Am I being taken to him, or somewhere else? If you can even tell me.”

“The Emperor’s headed this way, if that’s the ‘him’ you’re referring to,” Mao says, turning the key in the lock after unhooking a pair of manacles from the wall. “My apologies for this, sir. I hope I can count on you to be, ah, more agreeable, than His Excellency Tori…”

“I hope you haven’t been enjoying this too much, Mao,” Keito says, though the words are more tired than critical. He holds his hands out, letting the heavy manacles snap and secure into place, wrinkling his nose but not protesting. “Even when it comes to that brat.”

“I’m really not enjoying this at all,” Mao dryly says, taking a step back to let Keito out of his cell. “Well…not with you, at least. Tori is another story, I’m afraid.” He hesitates, then glances away briefly. “Apparently, the Emperor is still threatening to kill Tsumugi. Rei is hoping that between you and Tori…he’ll rethink that decision.” 

Keito blinks in surprise. “When you said The Emperor is on his way, I assumed you meant Rei. Ah, I’m to be a hostage, then? Good, you have two of us, you’ll likely need to kill one to show you’re serious. He thinks Rei is too soft to go that far, you know.”

“Sorry. Force of habit.” Mao grimaces. “I don’t think Rei will kill either of you. If he does, it’ll be that brat, not you, but…even if he tried to kill you to make a point, I’d probably step in. Just so you know.” 

Keito turns, and gives Mao a severe look. “Don’t put your neck on the line on the first day of a new regime,” he says quietly. “Not for me. Every revolution turns on its dissenters before long. If Rei decides he needs to kill me for security, I forbid you from getting up on the block next to me, do you understand?”

“With all due respect, _sir_ ,” Mao shortly begins, slamming the cell door shut behind him. “I was on my way to the Shadowlands with my bonded when I insisted on turning back to come and warn you about all of this in the first place. The least I can do now that I’m here is stand up for you properly, especially after the twenty years you decided to feed and clothe me.” 

“A fat lot of good it was worth, if you’re just going to betray me, then throw your life away anyway. Gods, at least make your principles count for something,” Keito snaps. Maybe, if he’s irritable enough, Mao will be angry enough to leave him to his (honestly well-earned) fate. He moves to rub at his temples as a force of habit, but the manacles prevent him, and he just sighs. “Your bonded?”

“…Ritsu.” It’s better to just ignore the former, because Keito’s harping won’t stop even if he comments on it, anyway. “Who will kill me himself if he knows my plans, I’ve heard it all before.” 

“Damn you, boy,” Keito whispers, hands squeezing into fists as he walks. “Your heart is too big for the position you’re trying to fill. You’ll just wind up making the people who love you cry.”

“Rei _owes me_.” It’s said through gritted teeth, though Mao doesn’t entirely believe it himself. “He won’t kill you. He wouldn’t.” 

“What won’t I do?” 

Rei’s presence at the foot of the stairwell makes Mao jump, and he curses, raking a hand back through his hair. Rei just smiles, climbing to his feet and brushing himself off. “I figured Eichi’s favorite pet would be a bit much for you to handle, so I’ll escort him myself. Keito, hello. Did Mao brief you, or shall I?” 

“I’ve heard that Eichi is on his way, and you’ll be using myself and Tori as collateral against the return of Tsumugi,” Keito says, keeping his voice carefully controlled as he looks only at Rei, pointedly ignoring Mao. “Send the boy away, Rei. Let him go be with his bonded, this is between the adults.”

“To hell with that, I’m an adult,” Mao snaps, stepping between them as he glares at Keito. “I’m twenty-six years old and I’ve already seen horrors worse than what the Em—Eichi can do in this situation!” 

“No one is forcing him to stay here, I assure you,” Rei firmly says, placing a hand upon Mao’s shoulder. “Though I’m inclined to agree with Keito, considering my little brother’s interests are also—“

“Funny how that has only started mattering now that we’re all here at the same place and the same time, and he _still_ won’t utter a word to you.” 

Rei says nothing to that, and instead steps back, lifting his hand in surrender. “I’ll be fetching Eichi’s brat, and hopefully, returning the both of you to him,” he says to Keito instead, his expression impassive. “Because I’m assuming you still delight in siding with him instead of me.” 

Keito swallows hard, then looks away. “Of course,” he says softly. “Do be reasonable, Rei. I’ve always been on his side, as long as I’ve been alive.” He licks dry lips, then says, “You’ll need to kill me to show him you’re serious. Even if he were to ignore the threat to Tori, Yuzuru won’t, and he’d lose far more in the way of financial assistance from the Himemiya family if he were to press onward. Tsumugi is a valuable emotional hostage, but not a strategic one. Do it quickly, before he has a chance to react.”

Rei visibly hesitates at that, then he nods. “You know I don’t want to,” he quietly says. “If you’d swear to me—I won’t even take you out there to see him. I’d believe that you were on my side, regardless of the past.”

“It would be a lie.” Keito laughs at himself, quiet and bitter. “Eichi would probably believe that I turned on him, isn’t that sad? But it’s too late, Rei. Do what you must. I’ve done enough to warrant the fate you have in mind for me, don’t worry. Your conscience can be clear.”

He hesitates, then steps a little closer, meeting Rei’s eyes. “But I want you to know. None of what we shared was ever a lie, or on orders. I...I want you to know that. Keep that with you. If even one person remembers me like that...I think it will be enough.”

“I know.” Rei’s lips curl into a faint smile, and he lifts a hand, thumbing Keito’s cheek. “I know that. I’d taste every lie on your blood if that had been the case.” 

“You’re not allowed to kill him,” Mao quietly says, his arms folding tightly across his chest. “I won’t let you.” 

Rei exhales a long sigh, dropping his hand as he glances back to Mao. “Honestly, boy—“

“I came back here to make sure that he’d be safe, I’m not leaving if he’s just going to be killed—“

Rei shuts his eyes briefly. “Wait here,” he orders Keito, and promptly snatches Mao’s keys off of his belt before grabbing him by the arm and dragging him back down the aisle of cells. 

“Wait— _wait_ , no, I—“

“You can try all of your little wizard-keeper spells on me, but they don’t work, they just sort of tickle,” Rei grunts, throwing open the door to Keito cell again and tossing Mao inside instead, locking the door swiftly behind him. “Like it or not, sacrifices have to be made, and if you think I relish this one, then you’re a damned fool.”

Mao lunges back at the cell door, giving it a firm shake, then grits his teeth. “I’ll scream for Ritsu,” he suddenly threatens. “I’ll do it.”

“And he’ll probably tell you the same damned thing: _stay put._ ” 

Rei stalks away, jabbing a finger in Keito’s direction. “You’ve raised a troublesome son,” he snaps, striding away. “Stay there while I get this awful brat that Eichi cherishes so bloody much.” 

Keito sighs in relief, then leans back against the wall. “I’ll go gladly if it means you’ll survive,” he says, just loud enough for Mao to hear. “Raising you was probably the one good thing I ever did. I’m glad you came back, just so I can tell you that. Oh...if you get a chance, my sketchbooks and poetry...you can have those. I’d like you to. You know where I keep them.”

“To hell with you, you’re not going to die!” Another moment of throwing his weight against the door, and Mao makes good on his promise. “ _Ritsu!!!”_

“You’re so noisy, forehead!” comes Tori’s snarl from where he’s tossed over Rei’s shoulder, courtesy of his firm insistence of refusing to walk. He kicks and squirms uselessly, and Rei looks entirely unfazed by this. “You deserve to be in jail, not me!” 

“That’s quite enough, princess,” Rei wearily says, crooking a finger towards Keito. “Come along. The wards on this little child take a surprising amount of effort, and I’m uninterested in maintaining them longer than necessary.” He hesitates before adding, “If you want to say anything else to him, just in case—I’ll give you two a moment.” 

Keito looks back at Mao, then shakes his head. “I’ve said what I needed to.”

Just then, Ritsu appears in the doorway, looking flustered and uncomfortable. “What?” he demands, looking around. “What’s wrong, what--oh. Brother. Of course you’re the cause of whatever I’m being yelled at about.”

Rei takes a moment to look fondly upon Ritsu before Tori decides to kick him in the head again. “Ah, ow, ow, be sweet, you little hellion.”

“Never!!”

“Your lovely mate will try to tell you I’ve locked him up without any good reason,” Rei grunts, wrangling Tori into a better position. “But he’s mistaken. He’s trying to throw himself into some deadly crossfire and I won’t have it.”

“You’re probably doing something stupid,” Ritsu grumbles, folding his arms over his chest. “Don’t lock up my mate. See, Maao, I told you we should have gone to the Shadowlands.”

“Let me out,” Mao firmly insists, stretching out a desperate hand from his cell. “Ritsu, _he’s_ absolutely doing something stupid and I _told you_ that I needed to be involved, so grab those keys or tear open this door with your weird superhuman strength and let me _out._ ” 

“I wouldn’t lock up your mate if he didn’t need it to stay safe,” Rei says without skipping a beat. “Ritsu. Eichi is headed this way. This has to be dealt with, and Mao can’t be in the way of it.” 

“Oh, yeah, that’s true,” Ritsu agrees, frowning at Mao. “Brother...if I let you go, you promise he’ll be safe? And he can come out when you’re done? And he won’t be in any trouble?”

“We’re wasting time,” Keito says urgently. “He’ll be here any moment, you’ve got to act now, Rei. Don’t botch this.”

“I’m not botching anything, you nag.” Rei exhales a slow breath. “Mao needs to stay here, Ritsu. It’s the safest place for him. I can’t trust him not to leap in front of Keito—“

“For damned good reason!”

“See, there he goes. Have some preservation, he’s your mate,” Rei adds exasperatedly. “If you have to keep him locked up in a box in worrisome times, then do it. I’m certainly not letting Shu come out to stand by my side when Eichi waltzes up to my doorstep.” 

“Mm, I guess that’s fair, even if you’re the worst,” Ritsu drawls. He moves, walking over to stand in front of the bars, frowning at Mao. “He’s trying to protect you, you know. Shh. It’s fine. You’ll be safe.”

“I don’t care about that!” Mao hisses, reaching out through the bars to grab Ritsu by the front of his shirt, snatching him close. “You listen to me. If you don’t let me out of here, I’ll be furious with you, too. I’m not interested in standing to the side and waiting to let your asshole of a brother control me anymore, I’m _going_ to be involved in this, whether you like it or not!”

“And we’re going,” Rei hums, ushering Keito up the stairs with a hand against his back. “Keito is quite right, we don’t have time for this.”

“I hope His Excellency blows all of you up,” Tori sniffs, kicking his feet again. “You deserve it.” 

“Be quite, Tori,” Keito says quietly out of the corner of his mouth, walking quickly. “You’re the hostage they’re going to return, so shut your mouth and be grateful. You’ll be with Eichi soon if you just shut up.”

Ritsu throws a glance back at Mao, frowning as the others disappear up the stairs. “What’s going on? You wanted to warn Keito, but he didn’t listen, so now I get what I want, and I want to keep you safe.”

“I came back to make sure he wouldn’t _die_ ,” Mao presses again in frustration. “Not to sit here, warn him, and hope for the best. Your brother’s going to kill him to prove a point, just like he snapped your friend’s bond!” 

“To keep Eichi from killing him,” Ritsu points out, leaning against the bars. “He’s got his reasons. I hate that guy for all the things he’s done, but he has his reasons.”

“You’re buying into his bullshit just like everyone else.” 

Ritsu shrugs one shoulder. “Better than letting my mate die for no reason.”

“It’s not for no reason!” Mao slams a hand against the bars, tears pricking into his eyes. “Keito is as close to a father as I’ve had since my own parents abandoned me, so to hell with that! Do you seriously believe in your brother’s idea of just locking me up if you don’t want me to get into trouble? I’m not your woman!” 

Ritsu stumbles back, startled and hurt. “I--that’s not--I just wanted to keep you safe, why’s that so bad? Everything is _crazy_ , but my brother wouldn’t do something really bad, you’ve gotta believe that! Don’t you...believe in him?”

“He _led_ Tsumugi into this situation. He led me into mine, and forced Keito’s hand on so many occasions that I can’t even count it! That mess with Izumi, with Makoto—I don’t know what to think of that, but I don’t like it either way. And are you just—deciding _now_ that you’re over all of the years he decided to not contact you? To let you think that he was dead?” Mao shakes his head, stepping back. “I hate every part of this.” 

“I’m not over it. I said I hate him for it!” Ritsu says, annoyed. He growls, then, because he can’t think of anything else to do, grabs the keys from the wall and unlocks the cell. “But I’m coming with you. And if I think you’re gonna get yourself killed, I’ll tackle you.”

“Tackle your brother instead, he’s the one trying to kill Keito,” Mao mumbles, stumbling out of the cell and grabbing Ritsu in a crushing hug. “Sorry—I’m sorry, but I have to do this, I can’t just let it happen, that’s not _right_.” 

“Whatever,” Ritsu mutters, but he buries his face in Mao’s shoulder anyway. “Don’t be mad at me, I just love you the most, okay?”

“I’m not mad at you.” Mao’s voice is muffled into Ritsu’s hair. “I’m mad at your brother. There has to be another way.” 

“Well, he’s dumb, so if there is, he probably hasn’t thought about it,” Ritsu grumbles, taking Mao’s hand and tugging him up the stairs. “You have a plan?”

“…Throw myself in front of Keito and not let your brother get to him but through me?” Mao winces. “Listen, I know it’s a bad idea, but none of my spells exactly work on your brother, and he won’t listen to me. Do you think he can even kill Eichi, if it comes to that?” 

“Probably not,” Ritsu admits, “but I dunno. He’s a lot older and scarier than I am. I don’t know what he can do. And they’re natural enemies, so I’d believe it if he could actually do it. But yeah, you’re not allowed to let my brother kill you. He’d do it, to get to Eichi. Hmm, actually...maybe not.” His eyes narrow as he thinks. “He’d do worse. He’d snap our bond, _then_ kill you, so killing you wouldn’t kill me.”

“The fact that you just _know that_ and say it without any hesitation makes me want to scream,” Mao bluntly says. “He sure has a terrible way of showing that he gives a damn about you, doesn’t he.” 

Ritsu shoots Mao a glare. “It’s not easy to be the Demon King,” he mutters. “And you don’t get to say stuff like that, because you kept a lot of stuff from me forever. You both suck.”

“I kept things from you because _he_ made me,” Mao wearily points out. “I’m not going to stop judging him for the way he’s handled a good deal of our lives, sorry.” He grabs Ritsu’s hand all the same, giving it a squeeze. “I’ll do my best not to get killed, though. I don’t want anyone else to die in this mess.”

Ritsu pauses to look around, then leans in to give Mao a sudden hard kiss, letting him go with a slow nod. “If it’s you, I’ll haunt you,” he says flatly. “Wait, the other one. I’ll follow you. So if you think about doing something stupid, remember you’ll be seeing me soon, and I’ll be angry.”

Mao tastes blood in his mouth, and he swallows, nodding. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says, more firmly this time. “Because you’re not allowed to die either. I spent my life making sure you were safe, I’m not screwing it up now.” 

“Then...let’s go save some people or whatever,” Ritsu says with a sigh, following along after Mao. “Just tell me what to do.”


	57. Chapter 57

_Wataru, where are you?_

_Wataru, can’t you hear me?_

_Wataru…I know you want to come meet me…_

_Wataru’s silence makes Eichi unhappy. He takes this out on the world around him by examining the flowers that now seem to bloom within every single crack and crevice of the capital with disdain, never mind the pleasant fragrance they bring. It’s distracting, it’s annoying, it’s not the roses that he wants from Wataru’s hand instead, and the sheer absence of guards about the palace walls makes Eichi take note. It’s not an invitation to let himself inside, it’s a challenge._

“That’s enough of those ugly weeds.” With one step into the palace courtyard, every newly bloomed plant within sight begins to wither, and Eichi sighs in satisfaction. “That’s better. Quite a mess he’s made of your kingdom, hmm, Leo?” 

“It’s different,” Leo says softly, looking around at the withering flora. He picks his way through what was once a busy, bustling courtyard, filled with attendants and courtiers and _life_ , now reduced to rubble and vegetation. “It looks like it’s been dead a hundred years. Where...are the people?”

“Informed of your arrival, and hiding, as they should be.” 

Unceremoniously, Rei steps down from the front stairs of the palace, dumping Tori onto the ground in a heap of writhing limbs and high-pitched shrieks. “Excellency!” Tori hisses, trying to haul himself to his feet even with his ankles and wrists bound behind his back. “Excellency, he’s been so _mean_ to me, and—and— _Yuzuru_ , slave, why weren’t you here to save me?!”

“Also,” Rei drawls, folding his arms, “I don’t appreciate you killing my garden.” 

“If you think that’s a garden, you’ve gone crazier in your old age than I thought,” Eichi flatly says. He pauses, sparing a look to Tori, then over his shoulder to Yuzuru. “Look, see? I told you he’s too soft-hearted to kill such a lovely child.” 

There are tears in Yuzuru’s eyes, and he slowly draws out two long-bladed knives, eyes burning as he faces Rei. “You’ll release his Excellency immediately,” he orders, voice shaking. “Or I’ll send you to hell myself!”

“Oi, Rei,” Leo calls, stepping in front of Yuzuru without paying him any attention. “Can we talk? I’m here to negotiate and stuff. On my own side, not on anyone else’s.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Rei says, barely offering Yuzuru a glance. “I’d love to talk. First things first, however; there’s a pressing issue. Eichi—“

“You’ll address me properly or not at all.”

“ _Eichi_ ,” Rei pointedly repeats, unfazed, “return Tsumugi to me. If you do that, I’m willing to negotiate beyond it.”

Eichi pauses, as if he’s actually thinking about it for a moment. “No.” 

“You’re not getting anything out of this,” Leo hisses out of the corner of his mouth, glaring at Eichi even as that stupid fondness spills over, and he has to fight down the urge to touch Eichi’s cheek. “You’re being petulant, he’s not a war criminal or anything.”

“Let me talk to him,” Keito offers, walking into the courtyard led by a guard, hands still bound. “Hello, Eichi.”

“Oh, look, a delightful voice of reason,” Eichi cheerfully says, reaching over to pat Leo’s head as he smiles at Keito. “Hello, Keito. I see you’re being kept under lock and key as well. I thought with your past as part of our Demon King’s harem, you would be treated a bit more gently.” 

Keito sighs, looking as though he’d very much like to be rubbing his temples, if not for the heavy manacles. “You’re not making anything easier,” he says with a huff. “He’s willing to give you Tori back, don’t you want the little gremlin?”

Yuzuru lets out a pained noise, and looks back at Eichi. “Excellency, please...”

Eichi holds up a hand for Yuzuru’s silence. “Of course I want him back, and you as well. The problem, you see, is that all your Demon King wants in return is something I’m not willing to give.”

“Allow me to encourage you, then,” Rei quietly says, pulling the sword from Keito’s guard’s belt, and shoving Keito none-too-gently to his knees. “Return him, or Keito will be the first to die, and my offer will continue to diminish from there.” 

“I would have kneeled,” Keito grumbles, and closes his eyes. He breathes in through his nose, then out slowly, mentally reciting a prayer his father had taught him, long before he’d ever heard of Demons that walked among humans.

Leo’s eyes go wide, and he frowns, striding forward. “What crime has that man committed?” he demands, looking into Rei’s eyes. “And what trial has he faced?”

“This is beyond you, child,” Rei lowly warns, and glances to Eichi, eyes narrowed. “Tell your mate to step back, or I’ll have him removed myself.” 

“For once, I’ll agree with you, he does like getting in the way of delicate matters,” Eichi grouses, his own gaze sharp. “Leo. Come back to my side. Yuzuru, fetch Tsumugi for me, won’t you?” 

Yuzuru runs off, but Leo doesn’t back down, glaring at Rei and Eichi in turn. “This is my country,” he growls, hair bristling, hands balled into fists at his sides. “And we follow the rule of law. I was going to give you a chance, but you can’t just execute people to get your way!”

“Forgive me, Your Highness, but I cannot recall the last time you attempted to claim your place on the throne,” Rei coolly retorts, stabbing the sword into the earth and from it, every flower previously murdered by Eichi’s hand swiftly swells and turns green again. “This is also not a matter of the crown at current, but a matter of the Academy, and as I am both Emperor _and_ King, you’ll find me able to do as I wish.” He waves a hand towards Keito. “This man is a traitor to both of my stations, refusing to follow me, and has declared his loyalty to Eichi on every occasion. Execution is a fit punishment when he has conspired against me in secret, though I did offer him up alive, and still would, if you could convince Eichi to do a perfectly fair trade.” 

Eichi snorts out a laugh. “How typical. This is what he _does_ , Leo,” he insists, stepping forward, grabbing for Leo’s hand. “He’s so _very_ good at making himself look like he’s in the right, when in reality, he’s the cause of all of this. Don’t worry your little head about Keito, however; Rei loves to talk about murder, but for a half-breed, he’s _pathetically_ squeamish.” 

“That man is my friend,” Leo growls, shaking off Eichi’s hand. He turns to face Rei, setting his shoulders. “And if this is the kind of kingdom you’re going to run, then I _do_ declare you to be a traitor to my lawful claim to the throne. Sword, coin, spell, and--”

“Ahh, how _amazing!_ All of us in the same spot at last!” Wataru enters, arm around Natsume’s waist, eyes glittering like cold gems despite the beaming smile on his face. “Hello, Eichi, my love.”

“ _Finally_ ,” Eichi breathes, his entire expression shifting to one of delight. “Could you not hear my voice, love? Ahh, I’m afraid I’ve been so distracted, though not purposefully, I—“

“Where’s Tsumugi?” Natsume lowly asks, clutching to the tail end of Wataru’s hair, no matter how he tries to square his shoulders. 

Eichi scowls, annoyed that he’s been interrupted. “I’ll come back to you, little cat,” he snorts, stepping forward to brush past Leo and reach for one of Wataru’s hands. “We’ll rebuild those wings of yours,” he breathes. “Wataru— _my_ Wataru, you’re lovely even without them, come stand by me once more.” 

Wataru smiles, and doesn’t move. “It was such a droll game,” he says, voice echoing across the courtyard, though he doesn’t try to project it. “When you made your moves. I laughed, when you had me chase your enemies down--ruthless, but beautiful! You were like a star in the sky, that only shone for me.”

His smile widens, but becomes more brittle, too. “And now, the jester will sing his song in another hall, one where the king doesn’t leave his fool behind just because his hat was stolen away.”

Eichi’s expression falters, then falls, his fingers falling just short of Wataru’s hand. “I don’t understand,” he says softly, slowly dropping his arm. “Wataru—Wataru, you _know_ I love you. You know…I would give _anything_ to be bonded to you, not to this…this obnoxious little human!” 

His face twists, and he surges forward, shoving Natsume aside to grab at the front of Wataru’s shirt, his grip white-knuckled. “I haven’t left you behind! I’m here now, aren’t I? The only reason I _ever_ looked away—it was for both of us, to save _both_ of us, if I had died when Shu attacked you, what would you have done then?!” 

Wataru shakes his head, and a dove flies from his fingers, bursting into freedom. “Ah, look at her fly! But in the end, she’ll circle back to where my room was, and happily back into her cage, you know. Such is the fate of any trained bird or storyteller, who must sing the same songs night after night to ensure that their master never stops feeding them.” 

He cocks his head to the side, and smiles again. “I forgive you completely, Eichi. And I love you, with all my heart. But I won’t be flying back into that cage again, not when the place you’ve carved for me has another name carved into the perch. So perhaps we must fight, in the end!”

Yuzuru reappears, dragging a bound and gagged Tsumugi behind him, tossing the man down at Eichi’s feet, looking around to make sure he hasn’t missed anything. “Can we please get my master back now?” he asks urgently.

“Tsumugi—“

_Rei abandons his watch over Keito and Tori to grab Natsume around the waist mid-lunge, stopping him from immediately rushing over. “Let me go! Let me go, Lord Rei, I have to help him!“_

Eichi’s stare is like steel as he turns away, stalking over to Tsumugi, wrenching him up by a hand in his hair.“Yes, Yuzuru,” he coldly says, “we’ll make sure to retrieve your master in short order. But first things first.” 

“Eichi, don’t—“ 

“Are you _pleading_ with me?” Eichi taunts, his gaze unwavering as he looks back at Rei. “That’s lovely. Why don’t you beg a bit more, you disgusting half-breed? Or no, I’ll give you another option, a different trade! Give me your brother, and I’ll give you this wretch that your seer seems _s~o_ fond of!”

Rei’s jaw clenches at that, but he says nothing, no matter how frantically Natsume looks back up at him, and Eichi laughs, his fingers tightening white-knuckled in Tsumugi’s hair. “That’s what I thought. Sacrifice is all well and good until _you_ have to give something up, isn’t it? It’s fine for others to die so long as _you_ aren’t directly affected, hmm?” He bends low, staring into Tsumugi’s eyes. “This is who you trusted your life with,” he breathes. “Does that feel like a smart choice now?” 

“Excellency, there has to be another way!” 

Eichi looks up, only vaguely interested until he catches sight of who the voice belongs to, and more importantly, who trails beside him. “Ahhh, the handsome traitor and my favorite half-breed. Ritsu, there’s a place in my kingdom for you and your lover, even if he _has_ been an active nuisance for…oh, how long?” 

“I have no desire to be in your kingdom,” Mao shortly says. “But killing His Excellency Tsumugi, he—“

“That’s _enough_ of this debate, I’m tired of it.” 

With one, last switch of his grip, Eichi’s fingers slide to the back of Tsumugi’s neck, and barely a second passes before the life leaves him in an audible rush, the force of his magic escaping his body in one last breath that leaves his lungs. Eichi lets Tsumugi’s lifeless body drop to the ground, and he pulls out a handkerchief to wipe the blood and sweat from Tsumugi’s hair from his fingertips, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. 

“Come here, my little songbird,” Eichi orders Leo, crooking his finger. “Now, Rei, you can stop threatening to kill what’s mine and hand them over, or I’ll seek out your arrogant whore next.” 

Leo stares in horror, frozen in place as if he must have missed something, must have been _wrong_ somehow, because how can any of this be? How can this man, the one he’s slept with, the one he’d thought he could persuade, the one he’d teased and laughed with and entertained...how can he possibly be this heartless? 

A part of him (a foolish, stupid, childish part, he now realizes) had thought that it was posturing, that Eichi truly wanted to be stopped. But this man, standing tall and handsome, is fairly _irked_ by the fact that he’d just murdered one of his oldest friends. 

The bond pulls at him, and he looks back, licking his lips as he looks over his shoulder at Rei. _I don’t know if there’s anything you can do,_ he thinks, _but I hope this could help._

I’m so sorry, Izumi.

_That feels better. It’s with Izumi’s name on his lips, Izumi’s face in his mind that he walks back to Eichi’s side, nuzzling under his chin, molding himself to Eichi’s side._

Then, in a fluid motion, he pulls out his dagger and plunges it into Eichi’s heart with every ounce of strength he has.

The sharp, coppery taste of blood fills Eichi’s mouth, and he chokes, coughing as he shoves Leo back, his eyes blazing far too blue as he rips the daggers straight from his heart and tosses it to the ground. “You traitorous little brat,” he breathes, spitting blood. “Did you really think that would work? My bonded you might be, but if you think I’m incapable of keeping you on that collar and chain that you so _desperately_ seem to desire after this—“ 

Then, his voice catches in his throat, stopped short by the fact that his breath seems to refuse to come in full. 

“Take him,” Rei lowly insists, shoving a trembling, wide-eyed Natsume into Wataru’s arms as he steps forward, grabbing Leo and shoving him back behind himself, away from Eichi as he tries to reach out and touch him. “Have you not figured it out yet, Eichi?” he softly asks. “I thought for sure you would have, after taking Tsumugi as your own again, but…” 

“What,” Eichi rasps, his breath hiccuping again, a wet, rasping sound in his chest as his knees buckle, toppling him to the ground, “did you do, you filthy demon?” 

Rei stares down at him through his lashes, then heaves a sigh. “You’ve tried for so long to force others to value you,” he quietly says. “Without valuing them. Yet…you seemed to understand that I valued Ritsu so… _so_ very much, to the point you dared taint him with pieces of yourself, as if that could keep me away. Unfortunate, that you decided that the two people that would and _could_ place so much value in you were disposable.” He smiles. “First, Wataru. My mate took care of that, severing those wings you made him from your own breath. Second, Tsumugi. He gladly took on the burden you tried to deposit into my brother, that disgusting little piece of your soul, that night you pushed him away forever.” Rei’s eyebrows raise. “Tsumugi _did_ say he knew how to kill you, didn’t he? You should have taken him far more seriously.” 

“He told me,” Leo whispers, feeling his own body start to tremble, as if it’s disintegrating at the joints. “Tsumugi. Told me--not to stop it, because of what he...took, he--Rei, is Izumi here?” he asks, voice plaintive as he sags down to the ground, eyes fixed on Eichi. His heart doesn’t even hurt anymore. It feels cold, and labored, as if each beat is resentful, as if it knows how few it has left and is trying to make them last. 

Wataru obscures his vision suddenly, kneeling in front of Eichi, taking that beautiful face in his long-fingered hands, crystalline tears in his eyes. “I’ll always love you,” he says, quiet enough for only Eichi to hear. “Not because you forced me to. Because of who you were to me.”

“No, _no_ , to hell with you, I’m not dying, _I can’t die_ —“ Eichi insists, lurching up to grab at Wataru, hating the compulsion to grab for Leo with every labored breath that still tries to heave itself from his lungs. He gasps, clinging to Wataru’s neck, blinking hard, the world switching vibrantly from Wataru’s face to the startling tendrils of magic that pour from each wizard’s body in only his viewpoint. “Wataru, I…” 

He tastes fresh blood on his tongue, and shudders, shutting his eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, reaching towards Leo for something only he can see, and closing a hand around it—a long, golden cord that he rips in two, withering with the last bit of his strength as that last breath leaves his lungs. 

Darkness closes around Leo--and then, abruptly, vanishes. His heart starts thudding regularly again, breath returning to his lungs, and he looks around wildly, in time to see Wataru slump to the ground, shoulders shaking. “I...I’m alive?” he whispers, feeling as if he’d awakened from a dream. There’s something in him that feels like a scar, raw and swollen, but he is, undeniably, _alive_. He spins on Rei, eyes wide, grabbing at his cloak. “I...you were going to let me die.”

Rei’s head cocks, and he offers Leo a little ghost of a smile. “Not intentionally. It’s difficult to plan for such strong bonds. Aren’t you glad that your mate was generous in his last moments, if no other time? I held out hope for that, at least,” he says, and then his gaze sweeps to Yuzuru. “Swear to me, your new Emperor, or forsake your master’s life.” 

Mao lurches forward, grabbing for Keito with trembling hands, nearly dropping the keys to his manacles five times over to free him. “I’m sorry—I’m sorry, but thank the gods that you’re all right—“ 

Keito squeezes Mao’s hand, nods to him, then runs to Eichi’s side, dropping to his knees with a sob, head bowed, across from Wataru.

Yuzuru drops to a knee, face nearly frantic with worry. “My allegiance is to my master first,” he warns. “Please, let him go, he’s just a boy, I swear to you I’ll never work against you.”

Rei glances back over his shoulder, and though Mao hesitates, he nevertheless warily unlocks Tori’s own chains. Tori barely remains on the ground for a second more before throwing himself to Yuzuru, sobbing as he clings to his neck, face buried there firmly. 

“You let him die.”

The words are quiet as Natsume finally speaks, standing in the same spot, unmoving except for his trembling hands, clenched at his sides. “You…you knew about all of this, and you let him _die_.”

Rei exhales a slow breath, turning to him. “Yes. Natsume, I—“

“I hate you! I _hate you_ , all of you, this isn’t _fair!”_

The very ground beneath their feet rumbles threateningly, and Rei reaches out, grabbing Natsume close, crushing him hard against his chest until that rumbling stops, until it’s less the ground that’s trembling and just Natsume himself, sobbing freely into his chest, clinging to his cloak with white-knuckled fingers. Rei sucks in a slow, even breath, and strokes a hand down Natsume’s hair. “Mao,” he quietly says, unable to meet Ritsu’s eyes, either, “would you please show Leo inside? I’ll handle all of this.” 

“I’ll send Lord Shu as well,” Mao quietly says, straightening to his feet. “Come, Your Highness, if you would.” 

“No need to send for me,” Shu says, appearing behind Rei, where he’d been remaining invisible, just in case they needed reinforcements at the last minute. Without saying another word, he wraps his arms around Natsume, holding him close between the two of them, eyes closed. “It’s finally over,” he whispers, hardly able to believe it.

Rei sags visibly, the tension finally flooding from him, and he tips forward, his forehead knocking against Shu’s as he snakes his arms around both Natsume and Shu alike. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry—you’ve been through so much, and if there had been any other way, I would have taken that path instead, I _swear_ to you.” 

“You need to know,” Shu says quietly. “Rei gave him the choice, back in High Harbor. It was Tsumugi’s idea. Rei offered to take it from him, but...he thought he’d rather it be him than anyone else.”

“But you k-knew—you knew this whole time, no matter what, that he’d die, that there wasn’t anything I could do to change it—“

Natsume’s entire body heaves in a sob, and he releases Rei with a shove, forcing his way out of both of their arms, his face blotchy and tear-streaked. “I don’t want to hear you say that you’re sorry again, because I don’t _believe you,_ ” he whispers before turning swiftly, the sound of his heels striking against stone as he runs all that remains. 

Rei’s lower lip trembles before he bites it, and he sucks in a shaky breath, shutting his eyes. “I owe you an apology as well,” he manages to say, his hands gently squeezing against Shu’s hips. “For…gods, for everything. I’ll never see you hurt in my stead again, I refuse.” 

“Not now, my lord,” Shu says softly, reaching up to stroke Rei’s face. “We have eternity for that nonsense. Now, we have work to do. Wataru?”

“I’ll go after him,” Wataru says quietly, closing Eichi’s sightless eyes. He stands, leaving Keito behind, still weeping. “Someone who’s just lost a part of themselves should.”

When he moves, it’s almost as if he has his wings again, almost as if he flies off to chase Natsume. He doesn’t, of course. Shu had made certain of that.

He turns back to Rei, and asks, “What will you do with Leo? That was a brave thing he did. It should have killed him.”

“He and I…have a great deal to speak about,” Rei quietly says, drawing in a steadying breath and feeling as if he’s aged at least five hundred years. How unpleasant. He lifts a hand, rubbing it across the backs of his eyes. “I took a bet on the sliver of humanity that Eichi might have had in him,” he admits with a ragged laugh. “A lucky gamble. It isn’t as if I wanted the boy to die. But first, he can reunite with his lover, and…I will deal with this.” 

He pulls away from Shu, drifting over to Keito, and places a hand against his back. “He deserves a proper wizard’s burial,” he quietly says. “Both of them do. You don’t have to be a part of it, but you’re welcome to be.” 

Keito reaches up, then removes Rei’s hand from his back. “Don’t talk to me right now,” he says hoarsely. “You...did what had to be done. I’ll swear to you. But...not now. Please. Leave me alone with him for a few more minutes.”

Rei nods, saying nothing, and withdraws, turning back to Shu. “Will you please,” he begins, proud that his voice remains steady (for now, not that it matters, Shu is _in his head_ ), “do me one favor?” 

“Anything, my lord,” Shu says immediately, holding his gaze without flinching, as so few can.

“Handle this mess for half an hour, while I lock myself up and cry like a child in the privacy of our bedroom.” 

Shu nods, and sends a mental brush of love, comfort, and reassurance, turning to start directing guards and servants in several tasks. _Go, my lord. My love. You’ve done the hardest part already. I’ll do the rest for now._


	58. Chapter 58

Leo feels as if he’s in a daze. A few things drive him on, and his feet keep walking one in front of the other, dragging him farther into the Palace that used to be his home, and is now the scene of so much death and decay. Numbly, he stops before the room that used to belong to his father, only to find it locked, with a sign tacked to it.

Little Prince,

_Leave me alone. Yes, I’ll give you your kingdom, but if you knock on this door right now I’ll burn you down to your bones. :) Go find your lover, he’s in the visiting diplomat suite._

Leo stares at the note for a long few minutes, as if it’ll make sense if he reads it a few more times. Then, tempted as he is to knock just to see if Rei is being serious, he turns, walking, then finding himself running, towards the visiting diplomat suite. He intends to fling it open, but it’s locked, and he sort of throws himself against the door, feeling his determination crumble. “Izumi?” he whispers, scratching plaintively at the wood. “Are you in there?”

There’s a long moment before the locks on the door warily turn. The door eventually creaks open, with Izumi warily peering out around the corner of it, hand on the hilt of his sword. He’s not _entirely_ convinced that he isn’t hearing things, or that this isn’t some kind of a wizard’s trick, or—

But it’s _Leo_ , in the flesh, albeit looking more than just a little chewed up and dazed, and Izumi sucks in a sharp breath, throwing open the door and immediately grabbing him close. “You idiot,” he breathes. “How are you even _real?_ ” 

The tears that hadn’t come earlier start slowly leaking out of his clenched-tight eyes, and Leo’s hands bunch in Izumi’s shirt as the first ragged sob wracks him. “I’m s-sorry,” he whispers, body trembling, throat raw. “I’m--I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m s-s-so fucking sorry--”

“Shh, shh, don’t start crying, _I’ll_ start crying, no one has time for that,” Izumi frantically hisses, dragging Leo firmly into the room and slamming the door shut. He grabs Leo by the shoulders, pushing him back just enough to get a good look at his face. “Are you all right?” he urgently presses. “Where’s—what _happened?_ All these damned wizards, they’re so closed off about everything, no one’s saying a damned thing and you’re like this…”

“He’s dead.” It doesn’t seem real, it doesn’t seem _real_ , so Leo tries saying it again, and again, and again. “He’s--he’s dead, because I killed him, Izumi, I knew it would kill him and I did it, I thought I was--but he--” His voice spikes, almost into hysteria. “But he--he saved--and I don’t--”

Izumi grabs his face, dragging Leo forward, and kisses him soundly, cutting him off from the frantic words that want to leave his mouth. “Stop,” he whispers, “and then try again. I’m here.” 

Leo hiccups, then nods, trying to suck in enough air to form real words, calming himself with every breath. “Eichi’s dead.” It still doesn’t sound real, but it _feels_ real. The warm place in his heart, the one that made him lurch blindly toward Eichi no matter what, feels cold and withered. “He’s dead. I killed him. I--I knew how to do it, but he--he killed Tsumugi, and I...” He swallows hard, dashing the tears from his face, embarrassed at his lack of ability to control himself. “I let him. I had to, it was the only way, he _asked_ me to.”

“Good riddance.” The word escape before he can bite them back, and Izumi pauses, considering an apology, but those words, instead, won’t come. “I mean that. Good. The thought of him touching you made me want to kill myself,” he admits with a ragged laugh, running his fingers back through Leo’s hair. “But if he’s dead…and you’re alive…that can’t be, there was a bond, wasn’t there?” 

That thought makes Leo’s stomach turn, but he nods, squeezing his eyes shut again. “He...just before. When he...knew he was dying. He broke it.” He wraps his arms around himself, then thuds his head into Izumi’s chest. “I think he really did love me. Shit, I don’t know how to feel about that.”

“It’s impossible not to love you, so try not to read too much into it,” Izumi mutters, sliding his arms tight around Leo to give him a firm squeeze. “But you’re all right? It doesn’t…it doesn’t hurt? You seem fine, but gods, what do I know…”

Leo shrugs. “I don’t think I feel anything. Heh, if anything...I feel like I woke up. From a long time of forgetting, like--ahhhhh!” he suddenly yells, wild-eyed. “Izumi! We have to get your daughters, I know where they are, I just remembered!”

Izumi leans back, staring at him impassively. “Incredible. Thanks, Milord, but I already got them, no thanks to you.” 

Leo’s knees buckle. “Oh, thank the gods,” he says with relief. “You...you got my note? I can’t remember--”

“Not until after I had found them! Gods, your brain really is scrambled all around in there, isn’t it?” Izumi grumpily retorts, folding his arms across his chest. “I only _just_ returned to the damned capital. That note has been rotting with my mother for weeks. You couldn’t have told me when we met up before that you knew where they were?” 

“We--did we meet up after that?” Leo asks, blinking wide, dazed eyes. “Arrrrgh, everything is all jumbled, I can’t--I can’t _think_ , it’s all a blur, ever since I met him...”

Izumi scowls back at him for a moment before he shakes his head, turning away to flop down onto the foot of his bed. “Well, you’re rid of him now. Time to be unscrambled. Rei said he would surrender the kingdom to you if you returned, have you spoken to him?” 

“I went to talk to him, but he’s not...seeing anyone right now,” Leo admits. He wavers on his feet, wanting to walk closer, wanting to _be_ closer, but...so, so much has happened. “Izumi...are you...I mean...I know we’ve both...been through a lot. But...ah, what I’m saying--not important, I still love you!”

“I know that. And when you take that throne, I’ll be the first to kneel at your feet.” Izumi looks back at him, eyebrows raised. “I’ve more or less killed myself to get youhere and to this point. You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” 

Leo sags down to his knees, looking up through tear-filled green eyes. “I figured you would be,” he says dully. “I haven’t...been much of the king you thought I could be. Or even the man. Or...even close,” he finishes on a whisper, looking down at his hands. “You could do better.”

“Stop kneeling, kings don’t kneel,” Izumi mutters, biting his lip as he glances away, irritated on about three different levels, least of all with Leo. “You’re right, I could. But I still love you, so stop making me feel bad about it. Get up and act like a man if you insist upon it, tell me what you want from me.” He rubs a hand across the back of his eyes, heaving a long, shaky sigh. “Leo, I’m _so_ tired.” 

“I want you,” Leo says, climbing back to his feet because he has to, not because he feels like he can, “to kneel. At my feet.”

Izumi blinks back at him, then slowly slides off the bed, dropping to his knees in front of Leo. “Milord?” 

Leo looks down at himself, and firms his resolve. He draws his sword, stepping back, and resting it on Izumi’s shoulder. “B-by...” No, he’s got to be better than this, for Izumi. He strengthens his voice, wishing he didn’t hate himself so much. “By my holy iron...” He’s imagined this a thousand times, but Izumi’s always been looking at him with affection in those daydreams, not with weary disappointment, and he never feels like a beaten-down failure. “Your oath, your bond, your lifeblood is mine, until I release you, or death take you. And my protection, my honor, and my hearth are your haven.”

This…isn’t exactly when, or how Izumi expected this to happen, but that’s Leo, very quintessentially _Leo_ , and words choke up in his throat for a moment before he can fumble through his own part. “I…I promise, on my faith, that I will be loyal and faithful to my lord,” he eventually manages. “To never cause him harm, to observe my oath to him before all others without deceit, until death destroys and parts me from him.” He sucks in a sharp breath, forcing himself to look up. “If…my king will have me.” 

Leo drops his sword, and falls to his knees again, grabbing Izumi in a hug, then a fierce kiss. “Of course I will,” he whispers, kissing him again for good measure, hands tangled in silvery starlight hair. “My bastard knight.”

A more eloquent response ends up stuck on Izumi’s tongue, and instead, he just sobs, grabbing for Leo and kissing him again. “It’s about damned _time_ ,” he whispers, his voice wet. “Fuck you, does it take being apart from me so thoroughly for you to finally take my advice?” 

“I’m a selfish, stupid king,” Leo says through a wet laugh, scooting forward until he’s nearly in Izumi’s lap, sword forgotten on the floor. “S-so be the knight I need, all right? You’re--ugh, you’ll have to fight Kuro for the captaincy since you were never my squire, sorry, but I’ll still put you on the Kingsguard. There, I’ve just done it, you’re on it.”

“Gods, but you make me so tired all the _time_ ,” Izumi groans without any real irritation, slumping back against the foot of the bed and pulling Leo close to him to bury his face into his hair. “I’ll shove him off a damned cliff if I have to. I don’t have time to answer to someone else that isn’t you, there’s too much that needs to be done around here.” 

Leo nods dumbly, curling up against Izumi’s chest. “I so badly want to just push everyone away and deal with it tomorrow, you know? But...a king doesn’t have that privilege. Sounds like shit, doesn’t it? Why does anyone want this stupid job?”

“Well, I suppose if Rei hasn’t formally handed you the throne yet, you’ve got a few hours yet,” Izumi wryly points out, shutting his eyes as his head knocks back against the wood of the footboard, and he lifts a hand to slowly pet Leo’s hair. “I have to go back North in a few days, anyway, to settle a few matters. First I’ll deal with this Kingsguard mess, but…”

“It’s fine,” Leo says softly, nuzzling into Izumi’s hand. “Family things--I’ll send an official apology to your mother on behalf of the crown as well, so...hopefully we can really have peace.”

“She’d probably appreciate that,” Izumi says, and adds, rather carefully, “Considering the combined armies of the North and West are much larger than anything the capital has to boast of at the moment.”

“Mm, I figured he’d be siding with you,” Leo says with a nod. “Good, good, I like a combined force. I’ll be deferring to him for advice on the matter of patrolling our borders. Help me think of a good title for him, I want to make it clear that he’s in my favor.”

“Well, I know he _wanted_ to be Vice-Captain of the Kingsguard,” Izumi deadpans, pulling on a strand of Leo’s hair gently. “But that requires being too close to the capital, so we’ll see if he’s still interested. Otherwise…something good and flashy.” There’s no _easy_ way to say this, or to sugarcoat it. “We’re combining our houses, Arashi and I—as much as the North allows, at any rate, but it’s more than the capital will.”

Leo blinks for a moment, trying to process that information. “Oh. Is he marrying your daughter? Or has he got a sister I don’t know about?”

“No, I’ve sworn off women forever,” Izumi mutters, glancing aside. “And he’s more a father to my daughters than anything, I…Leo, you and I, you’re never going to marry me.” 

“...Oh.”

The simple, honest statement sinks into Leo like a stone into cold water, and even the ripples feel like ice. Slowly, he sits up, disentangling himself from Izumi’s embrace. “I’ve...been a very blind fool, I think. I’m sorry.”

“No—Leo, come back,” Izumi protests, grabbing him by the waist to haul him back down. “Listen to me. You didn’t argue with me just now, did you? You know you aren’t going to marry me.” Saying it again makes his chest tighten, and Izumi swallows hard. “You can’t. So what, I’m expected to leave that be? I _love you_ , more than anything, but you can’t promise me that I’ll ever be able to be with you, you aren’t even _trying_ to promise that _._ ” He sucks in a quick breath. “And I know that’s unfair but I don’t care. I want you and I can’t have you, that’s unfair, too.” 

“Stop it,” Leo whispers, wiping at his face, though he doesn’t try to pull away. “I’m--you’re right, so I’m just trying to be a good person, you know? Grandfather...he always told me that when you become a king, you stop being a man who gets what he wants. That’s why I’m not lying--you’re probably going to be happier with him than, than I could...”

Damn his traitorous eyes tearing up when he’s trying to be mature. “Just...I’m not expecting you to wait on my pleasure or anything. Be happy. I hope you can be.”

“Screw being a good person, I wanted you to tell me not to,” Izumi mutters, loosening his hold. “To forbid it, or something, tell me you had a plan in the works. I’d wait for you.” Tears spring up into his eyes again, and he sniffs, looking away. “I’ve waited this l-long, what’s twenty more years or however long it takes? N-neither of them will ever love me like you love me but that doesn’t matter if you aren’t even going to lie to me for five minutes to make me believe you _really_ want me to stay. Be fucking mature when you run your kingdom, n-not when you’re with me!” 

Leo spins, eyes wild, looking startled. “W-what? After--after all the time telling me to be serious, _now_ you want me to have wild dreams?” Without even expecting it, he bursts into laughter, throwing his head back and crowing with it. “That’s my Izumi! Wahahaha!”

“To hell with you,” Izumi sniffles, huddling back up into a ball, glowering at Leo through red, teary eyes. “You’re just making me mad now. I’m tired, you don’t want to marry me, you just want to marry some stupid noble girl, even though you’ve never even touched tits a day in your life!” 

This time, Leo doesn’t even blink at Izumi’s changeable nature. He just beams, a dopey smile on his face. “You can do whatever you want. Because I know now that you’re my destiny, you know. If what happened before hasn’t ripped us apart, nothing ever will. So I’m not scared of losing you anymore, not to anyone or for any reason.”

Izumi sniffs again, and reaches out with grabbing fingers to cling to Leo’s shirt. “Kiss me,” he orders, “and be good about it, or I’ll be so mad I’ll leave and go to the North right now.” 

“Don’t be dumb,” Leo teases, crawling over to straddle Izumi. “You played your hand, my love. I know you don’t _really_ want anyone but me, you softie.” He kisses Izumi deeply, arms twining around his neck, all the confidence he’s forgotten lately surging into him. When he breaks the kiss, he whispers, suddenly very fierce, “And _fuck_ women, I’m going to change the laws so I can have the Captain of my Kingsguard chained to my fucking bed, you hear me?”

Izumi huffs out a hot breath as he blinks hard, struggling not to keep crying, and failing. “I’m a fucking half-blood, who knows,” he manages with a wet laugh, “maybe I’ll bear you a child yet.” His arms curl tightly around Leo, dragging him firmly into his lap. “N-n-no one else wants me like you do, you’re n-not allowed to marry someone else and leave me.” 

“Mm, then I suppose I won’t,” Leo says cheerfully, now that the earth is back under his feet, and the sky is back above him. “Ahh, you make gravity work for me, you know. Everything goes all topsy-turvy when you’re not around. Oh! Did I tell you--I have this new law I think you’ll like, lets me make bastards legitimate. I thought I could abuse it to have a concubine or whatever so I can continue the line of succession without giving you up.”

“Good, I like that.” Izumi buries his face into the side of Leo’s neck, pulling his ponytail out of the way to kiss his neck—and runs across a few, fading hickeys that make his blood suddenly boil. He growls, and bites down into Leo’s shoulder abruptly. “You smell like other people,” he mutters. “I hate that.” 

“Cut them off, for all I care,” Leo groans, blooming under Izumi’s touch like a flower under the sun. He flips them suddenly, pinning Izumi down to the bed, yanking frantically at his breeches. “No one else in my head,” he mutters, eyes burning with desire. “Nothing but how much I love you. Off, off, I _hate_ clothes--”

Izumi lurches up with a ragged breath, yanking apart the front laces of Leo’s shirt with perhaps _too_ much enthusiasm. Even if they _don’t_ have some stupid, troublesome wizard’s bond, _this_ feels like home more than anyone else ever has—and gods, if he doesn’t _need_ that right now. 

“You’ll smell like me again soon, at this rate,” he says with a breathless laugh, burying his face back into Leo’s neck, his hands dragging down to cup the curve of Leo’s ass and squeeze. “Gods, Leo, I _missed_ you.” 

“I love you,” Leo breathes, yanking Izumi’s trousers off, sliding his hands up those pale thighs, itching to bruise them a little. “You want me in you, love? Tell me, I want your words, I want every part of you.”

Izumi’s breath hitches, his mouth gone dry for a moment as he flips that around in his head. “I,” he attempts, then tries again. “That—when—when was the last time? Gods, _yes_ ,” he groans, grabbing a handful of Leo’s hair to haul him up and kiss him hard, tasting his mouth with a long suck on his tongue. “Maybe you’ll actually get a baby out of me, huh?”

“Won’t know if I don’t try,” Leo breathes. He bites at Izumi’s lip, then shoves down his own breeches to his knees, ignoring them once they’re out of the way, yanking Izumi’s legs up over his head. “Ahh, you’re still so flexible. I bet you’ve been doing it this way a lot, so I don’t have to be careful, right?” He grins, and it comes out almost feral, eyes narrowed to dark feline slits.

Izumi flops backwards, even as he grabs for Leo as much as he can, squirming to try and sling his legs up and over Leo’s shoulders immediately. “Haven’t been doing it enough,” he grouses, swinging a hand back to reach underneath his pillow for a rather unloved bottle of oil. “Take _care_ of me, no one does it right.”

Leo grabs the bottle, ripping out the cork with his teeth and spitting it away, then making a face when it’s soaked through with oil. “Pleh! Take better care of your things if you want me to take care of you. Now, open up.”

He drags a couple of slick fingers over Izumi’s hole, then sinks them in deep, breath catching at how little resistance there is, at how eagerly Izumi seems to take him. “That’s a good girl, let me in...you miss it, don’t you? Be good, I’ll give it to you.”

Izumi sags down in relief, a long, ragged shudder making his hands drop to the bed rather than claw at Leo’s skin. He clenches down around those fingers with a groan, his legs shaking as his thighs try to fall open even more. “I’m being good, I’m being good,” he whines, arching his breath with a hiccuping little sigh as he presses down into Leo’s hand. “Ahh…fuck, that’s nice, don’t you dare stop…” 

Leo laughs breathlessly, dragging a hand up Izumi’s chest, rubbing and squeezing at his nipple. “What...the hell makes you think I could stop?” he asks, eyes dancing as he works his fingers in and out, curling and stroking, then lowering his head to drag his tongue over the head, tasting Izumi for the first time in what feels like a year.

A curse ends up muffled behind the arm Izumi throws over his own face, followed shortly by a throaty groan that he _can’t_ bite back, not when Leo’s mouth is that hot and that slick against his cock, those fingers are inside of him, making him twitch and shiver, and his nipples immediately harden underneath the pinch of Leo’s other hand, throbbing in time with his pulse. “D..don’t,” he rasps, thumping his other hand helplessly against the bed. “I…I don’t wanna come until you’re in me, I…” 

“But you taste so good,” Leo murmurs, eyes lidded as he pulls off, a gossamer strand of saliva connecting his lip to Izumi’s cock. He shifts, and pulls his fingers out. “Sorry. You’re probably not ready, but...I can’t wait anymore.”

He leans down, pressing a kiss to Izumi’s shoulder, then guides his cock in, hissing when the head slides past that tight ring of muscle, teeth clenched against the pleasure that feels like it’s going to overwhelm him from the first second. “Holy gods,” he whispers, mindless with the pleasure.

Izumi arches with a rasping, hungry panting sound, no matter how it _aches_ to try and wriggle down and take Leo’s cock so quickly. Too long without on _so_ many levels—it makes him mindless, desperate when he grabs for Leo’s shirt still half-hanging off of him, clinging to that as he tries to rut down, his mouth slack, skin flushed hot. “Just fuck me,” he begs. Izumi drags a hand down his own stomach, his skin twitching underneath his own touch, even when all he does is splay his fingers through the dripping mess his own painfully hard cock has left. “I n-need it, so do you, just—gods, Leo…” 

“Like I could stop,” Leo grunts, and slams in deep, shuddering with pleasure, riding Izumi hard. Izumi can take it, he _wants_ it, and Leo wants nothing more than to give it to him until he can’t take any more. He ruts in hard, seeking his own climax, and just that one thought Izumi had put into his head is so _powerful_ \-- “It’ll take this time,” he breathes, absolutely certain in that moment. “It has to. I’m the king, I’m--I’ll put a baby in you if I want one there, so just--you’re so good, I’ll--I love you, I _love_ you--”

“Sh _—“ Shut up about that_ , Izumi wants to tell him, but his own body thinks otherwise. It’s embarrassing that it makes him so hard to think that _just because Leo is king_ , he can _will_ something like that to happen, especially when he’s bent in two, held down and fucked into the mattress.

Leo slides in deep, and Izumi’s voice breaks on a hiccuping sob. His cock twitches hard, spilling with that hard pulse over his stomach, and Izumi just groans, letting his head fall back, panting up towards he ceiling as he rocks down into each of those thrusts still, riding through every aching, spasming twitch. 

Leo doesn’t feel himself come as much as he feels himself _explode_ , shattering into a million shards of himself, all of them full of nothing but sheer joy and the pleasure of being with Izumi, in Izumi, surrounded by nothing but Izumi. He sags down, groaning when it feels as if Izumi’s scooped out his soul, and drops his head to Izumi’s shoulder. “Keeping it in you,” he murmurs, nuzzling into his chin. “Until you start to show, I think.”

“Good,” Izumi groans, not even bothering to try and unfold his legs, just letting them twitch and tremble still where they drape over Leo’s shoulders. He feels too-slick inside, over-warm and sticky and uncomfortable, and he’s not going to do a damned thing to change that yet. “Fuck. What if I just… _did_ get knocked up,” he dazedly says. “What then.” 

“Then I’d have you declared a woman, legally,” Leo murmurs, as if he’s given this a fair amount of thought in the past. “All the priests care about is whether someone’s fertile or not. Then I’d marry you, obviously.”

“But I’m not a woman, just a fancy half-blood,” Izumi half-heartedly protests, and when he shifts, he feels the cramp in his leg that he’s been trying to prevent finally rear its ugly head. “Ow, ow, ow. Help.” 

Leo grunts, and shifts, easing Izumi’s legs down, rubbing the big muscles gently. “All my priests and attorneys care about is an heir. You can look like a dancing monkey if you want, as long as I have a fat baby to show them, you’re my wife.”

“I’ll be your wife, I’m just not a woman, there’s a difference,” Izumi sighs, stretching out and letting Leo’s hands work their magic. “Oh, to hell with it, honestly, who am I kidding. I’d be your woman. The first woman captain of the Kingsguard, congratulations to me.” 

“Maybe I’ll just hide a pillow under your shirt for a few months,” Leo speculates, digging his thumbs gently into the muscles exactly the way he knows Izumi likes it. “Then get a baby from somewhere. A redhead, obviously, this color is hereditary. I wonder where I could get one of those...”

“But…nh…my hair color’s hereditary, too,” Izumi points out with a long shiver, his toes curling and his eyes fluttering as the cramp starts to dissipate, and it just starts feeling _good_ again. “Which one is _more_ hereditary, I wonder…gods, that’s good, you’re so good.” 

“I really don’t think I’m joking,” Leo says with a little hum, pulling out and working full-time on massaging. “Roll over, I’m going to do your ass and back now. Hey, Grandfather always said there was no stronger seed in the kingdom than what’s in a king’s balls. He was weird, but what if he was right? That would really be something.”

“I’d be ugly if I was fat and pregnant, but I’d do it for you,” Izumi bemoans, slowly flopping over. He pulls his hair off of his back, twisting it up over one shoulder. “That’s how much I love you. I’d probably lay eggs. Ugh, I’m starting to gross myself out.” 

Leo starts working on Izumi’s muscles, kneeling to straddle him. “But you’d do it if it meant having silver-orange babies, right? And one of them could be the next king. When I’m a hundred or so and feel like retiring, hahaha! Wow, you’re _really_ tense, huh?”

Izumi slaps a hand against the bed, unable to form words for a moment except for a sort of wet, gurgling noise. “Your fault,” he eventually bemoans. “I’m so stressed _all of the time._ At least you’re finally taking responsibility.” 

“Is it really responsibility if I’m not planning on changing anything?” Leo asks cheerfully, working his hands up to Izumi’s neck.

Izumi grunts half-heartedly at that. “Yes. Maybe. Whatever. Gods, if it weren’t _bizarre_ , I’d just marry your damned sister. But it is, not to mention gross, and I’m not going to do that.” 

“Mm, I know. I’d rather not condemn her to being a political chip for the rest of her life, but...well. If it’s going to happen, and I don’t see how it isn’t, at least she likes you. And I think she likes Tsukasa too, though I’m going to need to interview him more thoroughly now that I’m totally, absolutely the king.”

“Just let me bully him a bit more, that’ll whip him into shape to be a proper husband,” Izumi mutters, shutting his eyes. “You know…I don’t _mind_ being made an example of, in so many words. No one can boo you off the throne for having a male lover. I’m the one that’ll be hassled for it, and I just don’t care at this point.” 

“They can, once I name an heir,” Leo says drowsily, petting Izumi’s hair. “But they’d need you on their side. Don’t betray me, yeah?”

“Don’t be stupid.” Izumi reaches back, tugging Leo down next to him. “Aren’t I going to be the captain of your Kingsguard?” he sighs. “No one will ever be able to make me turn from you.” 

“That’s what I mean, silly.” Leo burrows into Izumi’s side, very content. “Mm. That’s why you have to be my Captain. Oh, and introduce me to your daughters. You want them to be princesses? I’ll adopt them legally if you do, but you might want them to...I mean, I remember that conversation we had, about not wanting the responsibility of the crown.”

“I sent them North, when everyone thought the entire capital was going to go up in smoke.” Izumi heaves a sigh, stroking a hand slowly down Leo’s back. “I don’t think there’s anything I can do to pry them away from Mika,” he wryly admits. “Rei and Shu were begging me to make them one.” 

Leo rubs his nose on Izumi’s shoulder, blinking sleepily. “You can keep being in love with them, you know. I’ll be busy, you’ll be away a lot. As long as you know you’re mine, it’s fine.”

“I don’t think it’s something I really have a choice about,” Izumi admits, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “But I can’t stop being yours, either. That’s a given.” 

“Don’t say it like that,” Leo grumbles, but not unhappily. “You have a choice. The choice to be in love with three hot guys who love you very much, one of whom is a wizard, one of whom is a Lord and commands an entire army, and one of whom is the literal king. You’ve got it rough, wow.”

“Yeah, I do,” Izumi grouses, pulling on Leo’s hair gently. “Because I love those two and you in very separate, different ways, and just sort of wish we could all coexist in a pile. But the world doesn’t work like that, unfortunately.” 

“Aren’t we coexisting in a pile?” Leo asks, confused. “I thought that’s what this was.”

“No, I mean an actual, physical pile. If I had my way, we’d run off to the North and raise my daughters together and…” Izumi trails off, rolling his eyes. “It’s a pipe dream. But it certainly sounds nice.” 

“Stop having dreams that conflict with each other, that would be nice,” Leo says, poking Izumi’s cheek. “You can’t want me to be king and also want me to run away with you and expect me to satisfy both somehow. And you know, my Captain of the Kingsguard can’t go running off all the time, either. You have to be by my side, my first bodyguard. If you don’t want the job, let me know before you fight Kuro, you know? I’ll still love you, but you’ll....you’ll be free, to just be a lord.”

“I’m just running my mouth, I’ve already made my decision,” Izumi mutters, swatting Leo’s hand away. “Do you really think I’d leave anyone else to the job of taking care of you? No one else is capable and you’d shrug them off in an instant. At least you _like_ being around me, it makes it a bit easier to keep track of you.” 

“Damn, I didn’t think this through. Yeah, I should fire you and hire a bodyguard that’s a lot easier to shake off.”

“Too late. I’m here and I know _everything_ about you. You’re fucked, basically.” 

“Uwwaaaahhh, I take it back, you’re still a page!”

“Nope, you did this to yourself,” Izumi grunts, rolling over to lay on top of him and crush Leo to the bed. “You want me to stay? This is what you get.”

Leo squeaks, then thrashes wildly for a moment, before finally lying still. “Torture,” he huffs, admitting defeat. “My life is over. It’s hell from here on out, total hell.”

“Just wait until I’m pregnant,” Izumi dryly says. “Then it’s going to be even _worse_. And you _wanted_ this, every last bit of it.” 

“Every last bit,” Leo agrees, beaming up at Izumi from where he’s being crushed. “Will you still fight my enemies when you’re...what did you call it? Gravid?”

“Yes,” Izumi deadpans. “And then I’ll lay my eggs and sit on them day in and day out until they hatch our little baby snakes, which may or may not have red hair. Then they’ll…I don’t know, be like me as a child, cranky over hot weather and very beautiful.” 

Leo reaches around to grab Izumi’s ass, squeezing it like a stress ball. “Well, then. I’m set. Who could ask for more than that?”


	59. Epilogue

The Academy is like nothing Natsume has ever seen, but…that doesn’t say much, he supposes. 

For weeks, even his mind has been quiet. A lack of visions is almost unsettling, but at the same time, it’s a relief. The idea that he’d have yet another vision of someone dying, or even just being hurt—it keeps him up at night, making him wake in cold sweats, remembering the life simply draining from Tsumugi by Eichi’s hand, the way he wiped blood from his fingers, the unconcerned expression on his face— 

Natsume shivers, and shoves the thought from his mind as he makes his way through the Academy’s halls.

Rei had graciously handed the kingdom over to Leo, with a ceremony that was less elaborate, and more an obvious attempt to leave as quickly as possible. Even after the past couple of weeks, Natsume finds it uncomfortable to talk to him, or to Shu, who Natsume is _fairly_ convinced knew of everything beforehand as well, and just chose not to utter a word. There seem to be few others that he can trust now that Tsumugi is dead, and the one person he’d trust most of all has been as withdrawn as he has been, making it difficult to reconnect to a world that he’s not entirely sure he wants to be in. 

When knocking on the doors of that person’s usual haunts today yields no results, including a flounce through the garden that makes him sneeze, Natsume is sullen and angry. 

As if he’s a cat following a dangling string, however, he makes his way directly to Wataru’s room, glowering at the door for a moment before he smoothes his skirts and knocks. 

The door opens slowly at the knock, as if by magic. A glittering sparkle trails into the air, and Wataru looks over, not moving from his seat by the window. He gazes out, watching a few of his birds circling. “Leave me for just a little while longer,” he says softly. “I don’t have it in me to be entertaining today, little kitten. Terribly sorry.”

“Well, I don’t care about that,” Natsume huffs, stalking inside and shutting the door firmly behind himself. “The entertaining part, I mean. I just want some company that isn’t wizards acting like they’ve never seen a _noblewoman_ before. Ugh. Your hair looks like a _mess_ ,” he mutters, heels clicking against the tiled floor as he crosses the room.

“I haven’t had the energy to care.” Wataru brushes a long strand of hair behind his shoulder, giving Natsume a faded, very human smile. “Gone back to your lovely dresses, I see. You look beautiful.”

“What else would I go back to? I’ve always dressed like _this_ ,” Natsume mutters, dragging a stool over and pulling all of Wataru’s hair back over his shoulders to try and make something of the mess it’s become. “You’re acting like you’re still all locked up in a cage or something.” 

“Do the nightingale’s songs not please you? You delight only in the sounds of the lark?” Wataru’s fingers turn over and over something in his hand--a gold necklace, wrought in elegant silver. “The lark has gone to sleep. Perhaps he will awaken in time, but you should not wait upon that chance.”

“If I’m a cat and you’re a bird, then a bird’s a bird and I’ll still delight in pulling out your feathers,” Natsume sniffs in return, fingercombing out some of the worst tangles in Wataru’s hair and turning the silky mass of it over in his grasp, marveling at the color of it. “Even if you’re not being as noisy and fluttery as ever.” 

“You seem quite recovered yourself, kitten,” Wataru says, not flinching when Natsume’s hands are anything but gentle. “Teach me your secrets, I’ve lost the art of pretending not to feel loss.”

“…I don’t want anyone to see me like this.” 

Natsume shrugs, glancing down, watching where he’s tangled Wataru’s hair around his fingers instead. “Every time I act upset, or…or think about it for too long, Lord Rei or Lord Shu just try to make me feel better, and that makes me feel worse. I…I don’t know how I’m supposed to trust them again. They don’t really get it. You do, so…” 

Wataru reaches behind, closing his hand around Natsume’s. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he says, turning to touch Natsume’s cheek. “And I’m glad that you didn’t have to pretend that the celebrations of his death were delighted memories of his life, for that’s at least one pain I can spare you.”

Natsume bites his lip as it wobbles, and he butts his head firmly into Wataru’s hand, huffing out a hot breath. “I know no one’s said anything…anything nice to you about Eichi dying,” he whispers. “So I will. I _am_ sorry that you’re without him now. I…I don’t think it’s fair that you have to be so sad.”

“Little fool,” Wataru says softly, tears stinging his eyes. “You hated him more than anyone. Why...why would you say that to me?” He blinks, drawing Natsume into his lap, staring at him as if he’s a puzzle that can’t possibly be deciphered. “Is it possible...that you care about me _that much?_ ”

“J…just because I h-hated him doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to be upset,” Natsume hiccups, blinking hard to try and not tear up, though he fails immediately. He sniffs frantically, lifting a hand to wipe at his eyes, and he glowers up at Wataru, lips pursed as he tries not to start sobbing outright. “But—but you didn’t hurt me, or lie to me, or anything like that. I d-don’t know how to make you feel better, but I wish I c-could…”

Wataru proffers the soft end of his sleeve, dabbing at Natsume’s cheeks. “You make me feel better by being close to me, kitten,” he whispers, tucking Natsume’s head under his chin. “You’re...one of the only people in this entire world who loves me when I’m not showing off.”

Natsume sniffles, burying his wet face into Wataru’s neck as he reburies his hands into Wataru’s hair. “I l-like it when you show off,” he whispers. “But it’s…it’s just as good w-when you act _normal_ , a-and _human_. I don’t care which one you want to do, both are good.” 

“No one has ever...” Wataru cuts himself off with a laugh. “I keep saying that, don’t I? Ah, well. Are you an Academy cat, now? It will do you some good to finally have the learning you’ve been denied.”

Natsume growls at that. “Don’t care about that,” he mutters, burrowing himself more thoroughly into Wataru’s lap, hiking up his skirts to make it easier. “You’re a better teacher than any of the wizards here, I _know_ it. Also, weapons and stuff aren’t allowed in here. I can’t carry my dagger collection around, really rude.” 

“You could...” Wataru starts to talk, then cuts himself off, looking away. “You should stay and learn, I mean. Of course. You’ll be safe here.”

“No, you were going to say something else,” Natsume presses, peering up at him with wide eyes. “I could what?” 

Wataru curls a strand of Natsume’s hair around a finger. “I chafe at walls,” he admits, with a helpless shrug. “Perhaps I was always meant to be a nomad. I’ll wander now, from city to city, showing off my talents, until I find a place where no one will ever look away. And...I would not hate your company.”

“Yes.” Natsume perks up eagerly at that. “ _Yes_ , I—yes. Please, let me come with you! But, you’re being stupid,” he adds, sitting back with a huff. “You should just travel because you want to travel, _I_ already think you’re the best, why would I ever look away?” 

A ripple goes through Wataru, and his magical aura seems to brighten, for the first time in quite a while. “And I’ll teach you everything I know as we travel,” he offers, trying to contain his delight and failing utterly.

“Obviously!” Natsume beams, throwing his arms around Wataru’s neck. “That’s better, that’s _so_ much better than staying _here_ —oh, but I’m traveling like this, as a woman, that’s how it is.” 

“As you like, of course. I cannot swear that everywhere we stay will be worthy of someone of your standing, but...” Wataru’s eyes twinkle, the way they used to. “I can promise that it will be _amazing_.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with us for this wild ride, everyone! Hope you enjoyed!


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